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COHYRICIIT DEPOSIT. 



BY OX TEAM TO 
CALIFORNIA 

A NARRATIVE OF CROSSING THE PLAINS IN 1860 



BY 

LAVINIA HONEYMAN PORTER 



OAKLAND ENQUIRER PUB. CO. 

OAKLAND, CAL. 

NINHTBEN HUNDRED AND TEN 



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Copyright igio 

BY 
EsTBLLB PORTBR ShAW 




Of this edition but fifty copies were printed and bound, the type 
then being distributed. Each copy is numbered, 
this being copy number 

^ 7 








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CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introductory ix- 

CHAPTER I. 

Preparations for a Journey — Bidding Farewell 

— The Start . . . i 

CHAPTER II. 

Camping in Kansas — A Novice with Camp Fires 

— Marching on Foot 9 

CHAPTER III. 

Fire and Fuel — Storm Bound — Fellow Emi- 
grants — Settlers in Nebraska . . . i8 

CHAPTER IV. 

Buffalo Country — Returning Gold Seekers — 

Our Whiskey Barrel 24 

CHAPTER V. 
Indians 3^ 

CHAPTER VI. 

Trials of the Spirit — Thirsting for Water — 
Gathering. Buffalo Chips — Sick on the Des- 
ert — Bay Rum, Bergamont, and Castor Oil 
— Mirage 40 



Vi CONTENTS 

CHAPTER VII. 

PAGB 

Infant Denver — Hanging by the Vigilance Com- 
mittee — An Indian and His Scalps — The 
Parting with My Brother — A Sale of 
Glassware — On to California • • • 53 

CHAPTER VIII 

Toward Laramie — Fording a Dangerous Stream 
— ^Celebrating the Fourth of July — Enter- 
taining Strangers — An Indian Village on 
the Move ... . . . . 60 



CHAPTER IX. 

The Rocky Mountains — Cheyenne Pass — Lost 
Cattle Restored — Crossing the Chug water 
— Shoeing Lame Oxen — Arriving at Fort 
Laramie 68 



CHAPTER X. 

The Overland Road — Joining Company with a 
Band of Emigrants — A Threatened Attack 
of Indians — A Night of Storm and Suspense 
Deserting the Company of Emigrants — Inde- 
pendence Rock — Mormon Emigrants — Meet- 
ing Fellow Travelers Who Passed on to De- 
struction — Money Giving Out — Philip. . 'j'j 



CHAPTER XI. 

In Mormon Land — The Trading Post — Discarded 
Possessions — The Pony Express — Our Indian 
Protector — Amusing the Children . . 89 



CONTENTS VU 



CHAPTER xn. 



PAOB 



Salt Lake City — Disaptointment at Fort 
Bridger — Letters from Home — An Old Ac- 
quaintance — Mormon Women . • • 99 

CHAPTER XIIL 

The Deserts — Indescribable Sunsets — Alkali 
Dust — Chance Acquaintances — The Wel- 
come Sunday Morning Flap-Jack — Salt 
Well— Fish Springs— Willow Springs— 
The Humboldt River — Graves on the Desert io6 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Meeting New Friends — The Pranks of a Cook — 
Leaving the Humboldt for Carson Valley 
— ^Climbing the Sierras . . . .116 

CHAPTER XV. 

An Indian Funeral — The Pack Train — Wel- 
comed by Lumbermen — Descending into 
California — First Glimpses of Mining — We 
Sell Oojt — The Journey's End . . .125 



INTRODUCTORY. 



When my two great, stalwart grandsons were 
little shavers, it was their favorite habit in the early 
hours of the morning to come creeping into bed with 
grandmother. Their soft little arms would twine 
lovingly about my neck and kisses from their dewy 
lips were pressed upon my cheek and brow. And 
were I ever so far away in slumber land their sweet 
voices clamoring for a story would banish all sleep 
from my drowsy eyelids. Usually they selected 
their own stories from the numbers I had so often 
repeated, but invariably wound up, when I had 
exhausted my fund, by saying, "Now, grandmother, 
tell us about crossing the plains." 

The true stories appealed more strongly to them 
than all the illusory conceptions of fancy, from the 
fact, perhaps, that I could relate what really had 
occurred better than I could draw from my imagina- 
tion. Be that as it miay, they never wearied of hear- 
ing how I crossed the plains, climbed the Rocky 
mountains and traveled many months on my way to 
California. To gratify them and their dear mother 
I have consented to write up for them the history of 
my overland journey. 

Those who may favor the succeeding pages with 
their perusal must not expect any attempt at fine 
writing, or glowing descriptions. The author's inten- 
tion is to furnish a plain, unvarnished tale of actual 
occurrences and facts relating to her long journey. 
Nothing not strictly true will be admitted into its 
pages, and if some of the incidents related be found 



X INTRODUCTORY 

of a thrilling character the reader will experience 
satisfaction in knowing that they are not the results 
of imaginary picturing. Whenever a personal adven- 
ture is narrated, it will be found to illustrate some 
particular phase of character, and none are recounted 
which do not convey information. 

As I recall those years after the lapse of time, 
they are as vivid as the memory lof yesterday's events. 
It has been a positive delight in the midst of this 
modern life, to live over some of those scenes. Those 
peculiar conditions no longer exist, for the advent 
of the overland railway and the custioms and usages 
of more civilized life have done away with much of 
the fascinations of romance and adventure. 

If I have not laid sufficient emphasis on the dif- 
ficulties and discouragement which we encountered, 
it is not because there were not numerous obstacles 
to overcome, but in turning the mind upon the past, 
the more pleasant memories stand out in bolder 
relief; even when the cares and responsibilities 
weighed most heavily upon us, we had that saving 
grace of humor which enabled us to meet situations 
otherwise insuperable, and to gather courage whereby 
we might endure them all. 

Necessarily in recounting these events so closely 
identified with our life on the plains this narrative 
has assumed an autobiographical character to a larger 
extent than the author could wish, and I humbly 
beg pardon of the reader if I have exceeded the canons 
of good taste. 

All through that tedious and extended time I 
kept a journal of every day's happenings as they 
occurred, but after our arrival in California we settled 
on a remote ranch, and in those early and primitive 
days, books, magazines or literature of any kind were 
rare among the farming community where we were 
located. My journal proving interesting to our neigh- 



INTRODUCTORY XI 

bors, was loaned and re-loaned from one family to 
another until at last it fell into the hands of some 
careless persons who allowed it to be partially de- 
stroyed, particularly that part relating to the first 
months of our journey. Many names of rivers, 
streams and different points and places have slipped 
from my memory, but the principal places and events 
of our journey were so strongly impressed upon my 
then young mind, that they have become indelible and 
time can not efface them. Perhaps the repetition 
of them over and over to my little grandsons and 
their young playmates served to strengthen them in 
my memory, and, while I may be lacking in ability 
to embellish this humble history I can still give the 
plain facts and incidents of that never to be for- 
gotten journey. 



BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 



CHAPTER I. 

PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY — BIDDING FAREWELL — 
THE START. 

It WAS in the fall and winter of eighteen fifty- 
nine that my husband and I decided to emigrate to 
the far West. Imprudent speculations and other mis- 
fortunes had embarrassed us financially to such an 
extent that our prospects for the future looked dark 
and forbidding; we then determined to use the small 
remnant of our fortune to provide a suitable outfit 
for a lengthy journey toward the setting sun. We 
were both young and inexperienced, my husband still 
in his twenties, and I a young and immature 
girl scarce twenty years of age. I had been raised 
south of "JNIason's and Dixon's line." My parents 
were well-to-do Southern people, and I had hitherto 
led the indolent life of the ordinary Southern girl. 
My husband, educated for a profession, knew nothing 
of manual labor, and had no idea of any other voca- 
tion outside of his profession ; nor had he the train- 
ing to make a living on the plains of the West, or 
the crossing of the continent in an ox team a success- 
ful venture. However, we had youth in our favor, and 
an indomitable will to succeed, and I have since 
learned by experience that a kind providence watches 
over fools and children. Since that long ago time 
when I look back at the temerity of our undertaking 
I have wondered why, and how, our older and wiser 



2 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

friends permitted us to be turned loose upon the wilds 
of the West without a guardian. We were two such 
precious dunces, but with a most exalted ego, and the 
utmost confidence in our ability to brave the dangers 
of the undertaking. 

A journey across the plains of the West was con- 
sidered a great event in those early days. It was long 
thought of and planned seriously with and among 
the various merabers of the family to which the would- 
be traveler belonged. Whoever had the temerity to 
propose turning their backs on civilized life and their 
faces toward the far-off Rocky mountains were sup- 
posed to be daring with a boldness bordering on reck- 
lessness. Emigration then meant the facing of un- 
known dangers in a half-savage country. 

After many lengthy debates over the manner of 
transportation, and a diversified quantity of advice 
from our numerous friends, as to the merits of horses, 
mules or oxen, we at lasit decided (and it proved to 
be a wise decision) to purchase three yoke of strong, 
sturdy oxen and a large well-built emigrant wagon; 
roomy enough to hold all we wanted to take with 
us, and in which we might travel with some degree 
of comfort. In due time the oxen were bought. The 
six animals were young and had never been broken, 
to the yoke. When they were driven to our home, 
turned loose in our barnyard, they were as formidable 
a lot of wild brutes as the eye ever gazed upon, as 
agile as deer, and as handy with their heels as with 
their horns. Not one of us was brave enough to 
venture into the corral with them, and wie soon realiz- 
ed that we had six white elephants on our hands. 
Finally my husband found a negro man who agreed 
to break them to yoke and chain. It proved to be rare 
sport to our neighbors watching them in, the some- 
what difficult task of training that bunch of young 
steers. But with time and patience they became more 



PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY 3 

amenable to yoke and chain, and sullenly submitted 
to be attached and to draw the wagon. I shall never 
forget the first time I ventured to ride behind them, 
we had invited some of our neighbors who were brave 
enough to risk their necks to ride with us. There 
were several ladies and children and a man or two 
included. It was our intention to drive our new team 
a short distance into the country and give our friends 
a foretaste of what a journey would be behind the 
slow-moving cattle, but before we had driven a block 
our skittish and newly-broken team took it into their 
heads to run away down the hilly streets of our 
village, pell-mell, first on one side of the street then 
the other. In vain my husband called "Whoa, Buck, 
whoa, Jill" to the leaders. It only seemed to add to 
their fury, and as they recklessly sped along in their 
blind rage, the way proper matrons and prudish 
maids climbed and scrambled out of the rear end of 
that wagon was a sight to behold if not to describe. 
After repeated trials and much patience on our part, 
our wild oxen became tractable, and long before the 
end of our journey we had become very much at- 
tached to them, and they in turn had learned to lovo 
us, becoming docile and kind as kittens, any one of 
them would follow me wherever I led, eat out of our 
hands, or allow me or our little son to ride on his 
back. 

The strong wagon with which we had provided 
ourselves had a staunch canvass covering, made 
water tight and firm enough to defy the ravages of 
wind and storm. Then came the loading and pack- 
ing of provisions, raiment, and all the other parapher- 
nalia necessary for a long trip. What to take and 
what to leave behind us was the problem that con- 
fronted us every day. Many times was the wagon 
loaded and unloaded before it proved satisfactory. 
Many of our most cherished treasures had to be left 



4 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

behind to give. place to the more necessary articles. 

The report of fabulous mines just discovered in 
the Rocky mountains had extended far and near, and 
the Pike's Peak excitement was then at fever heat 
It was at this time that thousands of people had set 
their faces westward towards that mecca of their 
hopes. While our friends imagined that we, too, 
would make that iioint the end of our pilgrimage, yet 
we had decided and promised each other that if 
Pike's Peak and its enviponments did not come up 
to our expectations we would push on to California. 
With that final objective point in view we provided 
ourselves with provisions sufficient to last us for six 
months or even longer. 

Young as I was at that time we had been married 
nearly live years. We had a dear little fair-haired son, 
Robert, who was the pride and joy of our hearts. I 
began at once to prepare an outfit for both him and 
myself which I thought suitable to wear on the plains. 
In this I showed the callow ideas of an immature 
mind which would not be guided by older and wiser 
heads — proving also that my conception of roughing 
it for six months was very primitive. Among the 
other necessary garments in my outfit I had made two 
blue cloth traveling dresses with an array of white 
collars and cuffs. When a sensible elderly neighbor 
suggested home-spun or linsey woolsey as being far 
more appropriate, I scorned her advice. These fab- 
rics were worn only by the negroes in the South. I 
assured her that I intended to look as neatly and well- 
dressed on the plains as at home. However, I soon 
discarded my cloth gowns and my collars and cuffs, 
as I will relate farther on. 

When our plans were fully matured and all our 
arrangements nearly completed for an early depart- 
ure there was revealed to me a most startling dis- 
covery that in the course of a few months the stork 



BIDDING FARETVTELL 



intended to make us anotlier visit. Welcome as he 
might have been under more favorable circumstances, 
his promised coming in the near future brought con- 
sternation to our hearts, and we were afraid our plans 
would all have to be changed. We feared the perils 
of our journey might prove to be too hard for me to 
endure under these new circumstances. But I was 
well, young and strong; had the courage and bravery 
of ignorance, besides, we hoped to reach the end of 
our destination and find a home and resting place 
before the final advent of the stork's promised visit, 
which I was careful to conceal from my friends. I 
did not wish to give my dear parents any unnecessary 
worry ; they were already filled with dread and anxiety 
at the undertaking we had so lightly assumed. We 
concluded to make the best of what could not be 
helped, and with stout hearts still continued our final, 
preparations. 

EA'erything being now in readiness, we waited 
impatiently for the warm days of spring, as we were 
to depend mostly on the wild grass of the prairie for 
food for our stock which now consisted of the afore- 
said three yoke of oxen, a full blooded Arabian saddle 
horse and a milch cow. 

It w^as the third day of April, 1860, that my hus- 
band and eldest brother, Sam, who accompanied us 
as far as Pike's Peak, left the little town of Hannibal, 
on the Mississippi river, and started overland across 
the state of Missouri for St. Joseph, where by rail and 
train myself and little son joined them. We remained 
in St. Joseph a day or tw^o to make my farewell visit 
to my dear sister who resided there. 

On the fourteenth day of April we left St. 
Joseph, driving aboard the ferry for the farther shore 
of the muddy Missouri river, accompanied by my sis- 
ter, her husband and a few other friends. We landed 
in a little village on the Kansas shore, and drove our 



6 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

friends out a few miles on the prairie, and made our 
first halt for our noon-day meal in which our friends 
were to join us for the last time. It was a sorrowful 
picnic, for our parting hour was near at hand. 

Seven and forty years ago it was a serious thing 
to say good-bye to all that was nearest and dearest, 
to uproot ourselves from home and go forth into the 
wilderness into many and unknown dangers. 

My sister and friends were to return by the ferry 
to St. Joseph. My husband and brother were too 
tender-hearted to remain and witness our sad part- 
ing. They hurriedly gathered the cattle from where 
they were feeding on the short grass, yoked them to 
the wagon, put my little son into the wagon beside 
them and drove slowly awaj', leaving me to bid my 
friends a long and last farewell. 

I never recall that sad parting from my dear 
sister on the plains of Kansas without the tears flow- 
ing fast and free. Even now as I write, although so 
many long years have passed since then, I cannot 
restrain them. We were the eldest of a large family 
and the bond of affection and love that existed be- 
tv^^een us was strong indeed. It was like tearing our 
heart strings asunder. But such sorrows are to be 
endured not described. As she with the other friends 
turned to leave me for the ferry which was to take 
them back to home and civilization, I stood alone on 
that wild prairie. Looking westward I saw my 
husband driving slowly over the plain; turning my 
face once more to the east, my dear sister's footsteps 
were fast widening the distance between us. For the 
time I knew not which way to go, nor whom to follow. 
But in a few moments I rallied my forces, and waiving 
a last adieu to my beloved sister, turned my dim and 
tear-stained eyes westward and soon overtook the 
slowly moving oxen, who were bearing my husband 
and child over the green prairie. Climbing into the 



THE START Y 

wagon beside them, with everything we possessed 
piled high behind us, we turned our faces toward the 
land of golden promise, that lay far beyond the 
Rocky mountains. Little idea had I of the hardships, 
the perils, the deprivation awaiting me. W^ien the 
reality proved to be more than my most vivid imagina- 
tion had pictured it, I was still able to endure it with 
a staunch heart, but often as I walked ahead of the 
team and alone, thoughts of home and my dear father 
and mother would almost overwhelm me with grief. 
As each step bore me farther from them, the unbidden 
tears would flow in spite of my brave resolve to be 
the courageous and valiant frontierswoman. I had 
been taught that a wife owed her first duty to her 
husband, and hard as it seemed I had the courage to 
do what I had promised under the highest and most 
solemn sanction. 

We had been several days on our journey before 
I began to realize the immolation and sacrifice I was 
to endure; giving up my comfortable home and all 
my dear ones, cut off from the congenial society of 
my associates and personal friends, the ease, luxuries 
and comforts of civilized life. Enduring the disagree- 
able drudgery of camp work, the constant exposure to 
the elements, the glare of the scorching sun, the 
furious and fearful thunder storms that so often 
overtook us, the high winds, and blinding, pitiless 
sand storms that blew for days without cessation, the 
dread that settled down upon us at nightfall for fear 
of wild beasts and the other dangers that so often 
menaced us in our utter loneliness, the necessity of 
still moving onward, each day, whether we were in 
the humor for traveling or not. At first the novelty 
attending the starting out on such a trip and the 
continuous change of our environmient kept up our 
interest. But as the days wore on the irksome 
monotony of the journey began to pall upon me, and 



8 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

I spent manv unhappy hours which I tried to conceal 
within my own breast, sometimes confiding to my 
journal my woes and disappointments, but managed 
to keep up a cheerful exterior before my husband and 
brother. Gradually, however, I became used to the 
peculiar situations by which I was surrounded and 
learned by daily experience how to surmount the 
trials and difficulties, and with a naturally cheerful 
and optimistic temperament soon became philosophi- 
cal enough to take things as I found them and make 
the best of the situation. 



CHAPTER II. 

CAMPING IN KANSAS — A NOVICE WITH CAMPFIRES — 
MARCHING ON FOOT. 

Our first night in camp was near a small stream. 
On the banks were a few stunted and wind-blown 
trees. The forage for our stock was not good. Dur- 
ing the night the cattle strayed from camp in search 
of better grazing, or the inclination for the old pas- 
tures, and turned backwards toward home. When 
morning dawned we had nothing left but our 
"Arabian steed," which fortunately we had securely 
picketed, or he too, might have deserted us. James, 
my husband, took the horse and went back rapidly 
over the road we had traveled the day before- My 
brother, taking the field-glasses, went on foot in 
another direction to find traces of our wandering 
herd. With my little son I was left alone in camp to 
wrestle with the campfire and breakfast. 

I must admit that my first experience with real 
cooking was on this journey. Like many other 
Southern girls I had learned how to make a delicate 
cake or a fancy pudding, but never before had I tried 
to cook a meal. You can well imagine what a difficult 
task it must have been for me to build a campfire, get 
my kettle to stand upright on the rolling wood, keep 
the smoke out of my eyes and ashes out of the food, 
hampered as I was with my blue cloth traveling dress 
and the great effort required to keep my white cuffs 
clean. A short distance from our camp an old man 
and his two sons had set up their tent. I learned that 
they also were en route for Pike's Peak, coming from 

9 



10 BY OX TKAM TO CALIFORNIA 

their thrice remote !New England home. I was con- 
scious that they were watching my poor efforts very 
closely, and after I had upset my coffee pot, and the 
camp kettle had turned over and put out the little 
fire I had at last got started, the elderly man came 
to my assistance, rebuilt my fire, adjusted my kettle 
in the proper way, expressed his kindly sympathy in 
our dilemmia, and then bidding me a polite good day 
returned to his own camp. As the morning advanced 
my Yankee neighbors soon did up their camp work, 
folded their tent, and moved along on their way, 
leaving me alone on that forlorn prairie, with not a 
soul in sight anywhere. Had I been a timid creature 
I might have wailed my lonely plight. My little son 
and I ate our poorly cooked and joyless breakfast 
alone, after waiting long for the return of my husband 
and brother. Not until the noonday sun was high in 
the heavens were my tired and strained eyes gladdened 
by the sight of them afar off driving the lost cattle 
before them. After that experience the stock was 
herded until bed time, and then securely staked to 
prevent another occurrence of that kind. 

I very soon discarded the blue cloth dress and white 
collars and cuffs, fully realizing that they were not 
just the proper thing for camp life. Fortunately I 
had with me some short wash dresses which I immed- 
iately donned, tied my much-betrimmed straw hat up 
in the wagon, put on my big shaker sun-bonnet and 
my heavy buckskin gloves, and looked the ideal 
emigrant woman. The first days of such a journey, 
however commonplace, were interesting to us. Every 
faculty was on the alert. Even so trivial a thing as 
a jack-rabbit rising out of the grass, scared, and 
scampering with long leaps, vstriving to viiden the 
distance between us, was able to hold our attention. 
Or we watched the misfortunes of a fellow traveler 
by the wayside, who, in his great haste, had neglected 



CAMPING IN KANSAS 11 

to lubricate his running gear properly; hence a kot- 
box which he was vainly trying to cool off with a wet 
blanket. Crossing a deep stream on Avhose opposite 
side were a few rough houses and the usual saloon, 
the entire population turned out to see us drive 
through the village. As we passed the last house, an 
old crone was bending over her tub busily washing, 
but she stopped her labors long enough to ask us in 
drawling tones, ''be you gwine to Pike's Peak?" 
Answering her in the affirmative, we inquired the 
name of the village we were just leaving. ''Oh," she 
replied, ''this is INIason City." Anywhere through 
Kansas three or four log huts constituted a city. 

My young brother who traveled with us was a 
youth of susceptible proclivities, fresh from the re- 
straints of college life, and with the exhilaration of 
his new found freedom unusually elated. For was 
not his face turned towards the wonderful land of 
the Golden West? While we were yet children 
around the home fire-side, we had planned a life of 
travel and adventure, and now our childish longings 
were to be realized. He had an absorbing passion for 
nature, for every curious formation of rock or stone, 
a quick eye for all the beauties of the unfolding land- 
scape, a ready ear, too, for every touch of humor, and 
was hilarious over the interminable picnic that he 
imagined we had begiin. Nature had also endowed 
him with a nimble tongue, and he was constantly 
telling us funny stories of college life. Often we would 
laughingly accuse him of drawing the long bow, on 
relating some very unusual experience. In vain we 
would try to outwit him and play our own jokes 
upon him, but his lively retorts were nearly always 
to our complete discomfiture. Generous hearted boy 
was he, and round the camp fires and over many 
of the wearisome stretches of our journey he made 
the hours seem shorter with his cheerful badinage. 



12 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

Part of my work when in camp was cooking. 1 
have already acknowledged my great deficiency in 
that accomplishment. The bread-making at first was 
a total failnre. When I attempted to make light rolls 
for breakfast they were leaden. My husband, wise 
man that he was, ate them in silence, but my humor- 
ous brother, less polite, called them sinkers. I felt 
chagrined at my failure, but persisting in my efforts 
I soon overcame the mysteries of the dried j'east cakes 
with which T had been supplied, and in a short time 
learned to make sweet and wholesome light bread. 

As we had no tent we slept in the wagon, my 
brother taking the rear end for his 'Tullman," 
spreading his blankets above the bales and boxes, 
never seeming to mind the ridges and uneven surface 
of his couch. James, myself and our little son, occu- 
pied the front of the wagon. We had a huge old- 
fashioned feather bed, that made sleeping al)ove the 
boxes and barrels a trifle more comfortable. During 
the day it was necessary to stow away the beds more 
compactly to enable us to get at the stores beneath 
them. This also was my work while the men brushed 
and curried the stock, lubricated the wheels of the 
wagon, and reloaded the various camp equipage. 
James was kindly solicitous for the welfare of his 
cattle, giving the oxen the same careful grooming that 
our horse received, and they fared much better for 
this attention, looking sleek and fine for the extra 
care. 

When I had finished my part of the camp work 
I would wrap myself in a warm shawl and start out 
on the road ahead of the team. The early spring 
mornings were keen and cold and I felt the need of 
brisk exercise. I had always been an enthusiastic 
pedestrian and greatly enjoyed walking over the 
gently undulating plains of Kansas. It was our en- 
deavor to make from twenty to thirty-five miles' pro- 



MARCHING ON FOOT, 13 

gress westward every day. If the weather permitted 
and the roads were not too hea,vy from the frequent 
rains, it was my habit to walk the entire distance. As 
I grew accustomed to the continued exercise, I could 
accomplish the long walk with ease. At other times, 
mounting my horse, I would enjoy a gallop over tha 
prairies, occasionally getting a bad fall. My horse 
was a kind and gentle animal ; but I soon discovered 
that he was possessed of one most treacherous fault, 
namely, when frightened instead of swaying or shieing 
sidewise, he would suddenly squat, and the best rider 
would become unseated. I had been thrown from his 
back once or twice in this manner, luckily withjut 
injury, and Sam, m^y- brother, made great sport of 
my failure to stay in the saddle on these occasions. 
This mortified me exceedingly, as from my early child- 
hood I had ridden horseback. There were few horses 
that I dared not mount, and I was extremely vain of 
my skill as an equestrienne. However, one fine day. 
he too, came to grief. I had been riding for several 
hours and becoming weary dismounted. My brother 
vaulted lightly on the horse and rode swiftly away. 
While I stood admiring his graceful pose and tha 
fearless manner in which he rode, suddenly I saw him 
go flying out of the saddle and quickly strike the 
ground, and not on his feet either. After his own 
failure, he ceased to vex me mth his jests and raillery. 
We had only been a few days out on our journey 
when we witnessed an electrical storm, something 
unusual at this time of the year. This stoinn was 
frightful in the extreme for us as we<were so unpro- 
tected from its fury. The sky was overcast with dark 
and threatening clouds, a low sullen murmur as of 
distant wind filled the air. The lightning blamed 
incessantly as it lit up the darkening horizon. The 
thunder burst forth in peal after peal of deafening 
reverberation. We hurriedly drove our frightened team 



14 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

into camp as this storm continued. By midnight a 
furious gale sw^t over the bare prairie. Our wagon, 
exposed to the furv of the wind, shook and rocked in 
such a nmnner, that every moment we feared it would 
be overturne'd. Yet with all this flurry of the ele- 
ments scarcely a drop of rain fell in our vicinity. 
Farther on we discovered next day by the condition of 
the roads there must have been heavy showers. For 
the first two or three weeks it rained almost daily, 
w^hich made the conditions very uncomfortable and 
with difficulty we made our fires from the water 
soaked wood and cooked our meals under the falling 
rain. 

When the days were bright and clear the travel 
through Kansas was delightful. The aspect of the 
prairies in the early morning sunshine was most 
alluring. The air was fresh and bracing, filled with 
the fragrance of countless spring flowers, and every 
little blade of grass hung with drops of dew that 
scintillated like jewels as they waved in the gentle 
breeze of morning. The sweet note of the meadow 
lark was music to the listening ear. On every side 
was high waving grass that covered these vast 
stretches of undulating land. I rode or walked over 
the tufted plain, seeing, unvexed by sound of wheel 
or human voice the pleasant sights along the way. 
The solitude upon this wide expanse of open plain 
was absolute. No smoke arose in the clear air fromi 
any habitation. No cattle browsed upon the succu- 
lent grasses. No whistling plowboy tore the sod- 
grown turf with his shining plow, nor uprooted the 
tinted blue star flower that sprang up on every hand. 
There were numerous winding streams fringed here 
and there with miniature forests. Our cattle grew 
sleek and fat with the nourishing food nature so 
lavishly provided. And just within the woodland 



MARCHING ON FOOT 15 

that fringed the banks of some small stream, we would 
halt for the night, happy to find both wood and 
waiter, the two great essentials for a comfortable 
camp. 

When we had been two weeks or more on the 
road we came to one of the largest streams in Kansas, 
the Big Blue, timbered with sycamores, cottonwood, 
oaks and occasional elms. After breakfast one 
morning, my brother loaded his gun and took a short 
excursion in search of prairie hens. We had seen 
numbers of them along the road. Much to his great 
disappointment and ours also, he was unable to start 
a single one in the high grass. This we learned was 
the fate of most huntsmen at this hour of the morning 
and season of the year. These birds wait until the sun 
gets high and warm before they come forth from their 
hiding places to strut and coquette with each other. 
This led Sam to take a much longer detour than he 
had anticipated and it was nearly noon before he 
presented himself wet and bedraggled, but triumph- 
antly bearing one prairie hen. Only wounded by his 
shot, it had weakly liown just beyond his reach, until 
it led him near the shelving banks of the Big Blue, 
when in a last successful effort to reach his fluttering 
victim he had stepped too near the edge of the 
crumbling banks of the river, and huntsman and bird 
disappeared beneath the waters of the stream. Luckily 
grasping a willow sapling as he went down and still 
holding on to his feathered victim, he pulled himiself 
on shore and came back to camp elated with his 
adventure. We enjoyed the flavor of the wild bird, as 
our appetites had palled on salt meat. Up to this time 
wild game had been scarce near the road. As we pro- 
ceeded prairie chickens, quail and the ringdove became 
more plentiful and proved a grateful addition to our 
larder. 

Here and there along our way we saw numerous 



16 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

dugouts whicli we were told were occupied bj herds- 
men. These were supposed to be a secure slielter from 
the cyclones that came so suddenly upon these vast 
plains which were treeless; and as lumber was scarce 
they also afforded cheap homes for the pioneer emi- 
grants who occasionally settled here. Anything that 
looked' like a home attracted us and brought to our 
minds the association of home life from which we 
were going farther and farther away. 

Wliile we were camping on the Big Blue, we were 
in the midst of a large company, who like ourselves, 
were bound for Pike's Peak. The beautiful undulat- 
ing meadow lands were dotted here and there with 
tents. The blue smoke from numerous camp fires 
arose on all sides, while huge prairie schooners were 
anchored within hailing distance; in many instances 
like our own serving for tent and shelter. Cattle were 
leisurely feeding on the luxuriant grass, campers were 
fishing or hunting along the stream, while the women 
were on <luties bent or sitting by their camp fires. 
The children of the emigrants, released from the 
strain of travel, were romping over bush and briar, 
and their sh'outs of glee resounded as some unfortu- 
nate stubbed his browm, uncovered toes and fell face 
forward on the soft earth. 

As we approached Nebraska, the country becam.e 
wild and somewhat more sterile. All signs of human 
habitation disappeared entirely, and with them the 
wild game became less abundant. No longer the 
prairie hen or the quail flew from the grass as we 
approached, though plovers and doves still seemed 
plentiful. 

Between Big Sandy and the Little Blue river was 
a monotonous drive, hot and uncomfortable, with 
only a few cottonwoods to enliven the landscape. 
Here we found a settler whose humble, but comfort- 
able cabin was filled with children of all ages; they 



MARCHING ON FOOT 17 

seemed to overflow from doors and windows; their 
brown and sun-burned faces forming a strange con- 
trast to their tow white hair. We were invited to visit 
them in their humble home and were surprised to find 
so much culture and marks of refinement in this far 
away land. The. mother was an educated eastern 
woman, and in spite of the hard work necessary on a 
new farm and the encumbrance of a large and growing 
family, she, without the assistance of either maid or 
servant performed all the labors of her household, and 
still found time to instruct her children in the rudi- 
mjents of a good education. Her courtesy and good 
manners I never saw excelled in the best society. 
While the cabin was very meagerly furnished, yet on 
the cheap wooden shelves that adorned the walls were 
many good books of standard authors, which bore the 
marks of being well read. The children were clean 
and well clad although their clothing did not need the 
services of a French laundry ; neither did the mother 
have time to dawdle away her time at bridge or go 
to card clubs, even if these things had existed or been 
thought of in that isolated home on the plains of 
Nebraska. The father was a typical sturdy rancher, 
both horseman and herdsman, with a rich vein of 
humor combined with strong commion sense. He 
proved to be most interesting, amusing and in- 
structive. His fund of back-woods stories and his 
inexhaustible humor kept us in a constant roar of 
laughter. We left these cheerful people with feelings 
of regret. 



CHAPTER III. 

FIRE AND FUEL — STORM BOUND — FELI.OW EMIGRANTS — 
SETTLERS IN NEBRASKA. 

To THE inexperienced traveler the approach of 
nightfall is hailed with joy, for the camp fire is among 
the chief pleasures of out-door life. We vied with 
each other in replenishing its cheerful blaze. There 
was always a fascination in watching it kindle from 
its little glimmering light into the roaring flame. The 
flicker and glow illuminating the countenance of those 
nearest the fire for a brief moment, bringing out 
every feature with a peculiar distinctness and just 
as suddenly obliterating them with an intense shadow. 
Then, too, if the night was bleak and the wind blew 
his frosty breath, you were reminded by your freezing 
back that picturesqueness and comfort did not always 
go together. The brilliant tongues of flame and the 
innumerable sparks floating off into the air, had no 
charms for those who were roasted on one side and 
frozen on the other. Tlie flying sparks on windy 
nights would blister any exposed surface of the skin, 
while the smoke with every change of the breeze was 
whirled into your eyes. Fior all that, in many of our 
lonely halting places, the bright and cheerful glow 
of the camp fire served to drive away the gloom that 
surrounded us, and keep the wolf and howling coyote 
at a respectful distance. When we were far out on 
the great plains, with no wood or tree in sight, our 
main dependance for any sort of fire was on the 
despised buffalo chips. These emitted scarcely any 
flame, and we hurriedly cooked our evening meal 

18 



STORM BOUND 19 

before its unsatisfactory glow dissolved into a few 
light ashes. Then we appreciated fully, in spite of its 
minor drawbacks, our bright wood camp fire. 

In the early stages of our journey before we had. 
grown wise by experience, it had been our custom 
when J we came to a stream at evening to camp before 
crossing it. Storms that occurred so frequently at 
night caused these streams to rise suddenly and over- 
flow their banks. These shallow brooklets which we 
could wade easily at night, would become angry, rush- 
ing torrents before morning, filled with drift wood and 
diebris. While these .floods were raging, we had no 
alternative but to swim our cattle across or wait for 
the stream to subside. We had made this mistake once 
too often and at last found ourselves, as the rain 
continued, waiting in camp for several days for the 
waters to fall. But we were not alone. Each day 
brought us more company and before the water had 
subsided there were fifty or sixty other emigrant 
wagons in view, their tents dotting the landscape on 
all sides, Avhile their stock was grazing on the rolling 
prairie around us. The emigrants worked about their 
camps, the women busily employed in cooking or in 
trying to dry their clothing that had been drenched by 
the continual rain. Sitting around their wagons were 
other unkempt, soiled and bedraggled women, most of 
them lean, angular and homely, nearly every one of 
them chewing on a short stick, which they occasionally 
withdrew and swabbed around in a box containing 
somie black powder, while a muddy stream oozed 
from the corners of their polluted mouths. It was 
evident to the most casual observer that they were 
snuff dippers from Arkansas or Tennessee. 

A number of ragged and half-clothed children of 
both sexes swarmed around their camp, bare-footed 
and bare-legged. One of the women, to whom my 
attention was particularly called, sat disconsolately 



20 BY OX TKAM TO CALIFORNIA 

apart from all the others, who were pottering around 
their camp work or gossiping in little groups. Her 
thin knees were clasped by her bonier hands, and her 
towsled head drooped forward. There was a most 
tragic expression on her care-worn countenance and 
she looked as if she cared for nothing on earth. A 
strong measure of human suffering was depicted on 
her hopeless face, and it seemed as if nothing would 
rouse her. But in this I was much mistaken. Two 
of her bare-footed boys had committed some childish 
prank which roused the fierce anger of one of the men 
who stood idly b}^ smoking his short pipe. In a voice 
thick with sudden rage he called the boys to him. The 
terror and the panic depicted 'on their faces plainly 
showed their great fear and instead of obeying the 
surly call they started to run. The man, seizing an 
ox goad, soon overtook them, and quickly applying it 
to their naked legs caused themi to emit screams of 
anguish with the severity of the blows. Then in 
another instant I saw that mother aroused from her 
seeming apathy. With one bound, like an enraged 
tigress, she cleared the wagon, catching up a horse 
whip as she ran, and soon reached the man, who was 
so unmercifully beating her children. Her attack 
was so sudden that he was unprepared for the 
onslaught. She rained quick and sturdy blows on his 
head, face, arms, anywhere in her blind fury. It 
required the combined efforts of two men of the com- 
pany to make her desist. The man whom she had 
beaten was wild to chastise her in return, but tliose 
who had separated the angry couple protected the 
woman. The boys in the meantime had scampered 
out of sight. After many hot words, a truce was 
declared and the commotion soon died down. I com- 
forted myself with the thought that we were not 
obliged to travel with such an inharmonious company. 
We were now being continually overtaken by 



FELLOW EMIGRANTS 21 

numerous trains of the faster horse and mule teams, 
many of them bearing on their painted wagon 
covers such fanciful legends as "Pike's Peak or Bust," 
"Root Hog or Die." Ix)ng before our slow moving 
oxen reached Denver, we met those same teams coming 
back, and underneath their legends was the brief word 
"Busted" or "The Hog's Dead." The wild rush was 
not confined to wagons alone. Hundreds of m«n had 
pack animals which were loaded with blankets, pro- 
visions, coffee pots and frying pans. A few even had 
hand carts which they pushed with their light outfit 
before them. Traveling alone with our one wagon, 
independent of the numerous caravans that overtook 
us, we were passed by most of them, for our oxen 
were mucli slower than the horse and mule teams, 
which seemed to predominate. Yet the days were full 
of excitement, as we came into contact with such a 
diversified lot of human nature. Nearly every state 
in the union was represented, all looking forward with 
eager eyes to^^ard the rich mines of the Rocky moun- 
tains. 

These vast prairies of Kansas and Nebraska were 
sadly deficient in bridges. While at low water many 
of the streams were not difficult to cross, yet ofter 
we found ourselves at the brink of others whose steep 
and slippery banks looked very formidable. Down 
the precipitous incline the wagon would seem almost 
to topple over on the oxen, then into the deep stream 
and up the difficult pull on the opposite side. We had 
been on the road nearly a month, owing to the delays 
of wet weather and the high water we encountered, 
when we came to a large stream too deep and treacher- 
ous to ford, called the Republican river, where 
arrangement was provided to cross by a rope ferry. 
At this place we found a large number of families, 
with an immense herd of horses and cattle, m\igrating 
from Illinois and Missouri to California by the way 



22 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

of Fort Kearney, where they would strike the old 
military road. They had been trying to swim their 
stock over this streaml. This was slow and difficult 
and their patience was well nigh exhausted. It was 
impossible to get such a large number of animals 
ferried over in a hurry. Consequently we had to 
wait our turn and nearly two days went by before we 
could take this primitive ferry across the deep 
stream. 

One often hears the plains of the West spoken of 
as monotonous levels. But here and there they rise 
and fall in gentle undulations, sometimes crossed by 
narrow streams fringed by the homely and ragged 
Cottonwood. One morning, while climbing a rather 
high divide, we caught sight of our first antelope, 
and my impulsive brother wanted to give them a chase 
at once; but they soon showed us by their swift flight 
that they had no desire for a closer acquaintance with 
us. We were sadly disappointed, for by this time we 
were beginning to grow tried of bacon and salt pork, 
and longed for a taste of fresh niieat. In a day or two 
they became more frequent and less wary, and one 
afternoon we sighted several in a group so intently 
feeding that my brother laid one of the beautiful 
creatures low with his rifle. The others soon sped 
out of range. They were beautiful, graceful creatures; 
in color a yellowish brown on the upper portions of 
the body and almiost white on the under parts. The 
nose, horns and hoofs were black, with eyes bright 
and most beautifully expressive. We afterwards saw 
numbers of them in the distance, but this was the 
only one we ever came near enough to shoot. I could 
not forget the startled look in the beautiful eyes of 
the timid creature as it fell to the ground wounded 
and dying, and I did not relish the meat prepared 
from it as I had anticipated. 

One Sunday while resting in camp, my husband 



SETTLERS IN NEBRASKA 23 

aceompaniod me and our son to a small streami some 
distance from our wagon, where we could take a 
refreshing dip in the clear water. We had enjoyed our 
bath greatly. Leaving the middle of the stream. I 
seated myself on its banks and as I was drawing forth 
my foot from its depths, a huge snake came gliding 
out of the water close by my side. With true feminine 
instinct I uttered a shrill scream and started on a swift 
run toward camp in my scanty bathing attire. Before 
my husband could overtake me, however, I had recov- 
ered from my fright and went back for the remainder 
of my clothing. Frequently when walking the sight 
of a huge rattler would cause me to make a 
sudden jump into the air to avoid coming in contact 
with the repulsive creature. James, who ever kept 
a watchful eye on me as I walked ahead of the team, 
would jokingly ask, "Why did you jump so high and 
run so swiftly at intervals?" These reptiles were 
quite numerous on our route, rattlesnakes predomi- 
nating, w^ith many others not so venomous, but just 
as repulsive. 



CHAPTER IV. 

BUFFALO COUNTRY — RETURNING GOLD SEEKERS OUR 

WHISKEY BARREL. 

By THE frequency of the trails that continually 
crossed our road, we found we were nearing the land 
of the buffalo. Now and then the heads and skeletons 
of buffaloes dotted the plains, and in certain localities 
the ground was fairly white with the bleached bones. 
We never imagined that any use could be made of 
them, but many years after that time I was informed 
that a regular trade had sprung up for these bones, 
and that a number of Eastern firms did a large 
business in shipping them to their markets, where 
they were used in manufacturing buttons or gTound 
into a fertilizer. As yet we had not seen a herd of 
buffaloes. We had listened to many tales of how they 
loped over the plains, coming swiftly with bended 
heads, tearing the turf in their mad rush, which no 
obstacle could oppose. They had been known to run 
directly through and over trains of emigrant wagons 
leaving scarcely a vestige, and while we were now^ con- 
stantly on the lookout for a sight of these animals, it 
was with fear and trembling. 

One morning we had just finished our breakfast 
of salt pork, fried musli and coffee, of which I had 
partaken with little relish. My hitherto pampered 
appetite had begun to rebel at the coarse and homely 
fare. I was hungry for some fresh meat. Nearly a 
quarter of a mile beyond us was another camip of 
emigrants, men, women and children, with their full 
complement of tents and wagons. Suddenly from this 

24 



BUFFALO COUNTRY 25 

camp I saw a man come running toward us, and as he 
came nearer, pointing and gesticulating madly, I 
heard him shouting "buffaloes." Looking quickly in 
the direction he was pointing, I saw a large herd of a 
hundred or more. They seemed to be making a wild 
dash for our camp, bellowing, as they ran with lowered 
heads in a long awkward gallop. Several of the men 
were running on foot to get a shot at them. My 
brother leveled his Sharp's rifle and fired, but it 
seemed rather to hasten than arrest their flight. On 
they came with rapid strides, and crossed the stream 
almost beside our camp. One shaggy headed old 
fellow, shamb'ing up the bank, was tired at several 
times by a number of the men just as he entered the 
water. Falling to the ground as he emerged on the 
bank near our side, he caused the rest of the shaggy 
herd to veer suddenly in their course, taking their way 
between the two camps, and quickly disappeared 
around a group of low rolling mounds just beyond us. 
My little boy and myself had taken refuge in the 
wagon, expecting every moment to feel the trampling 
of their hoofs, for we had heard much of their rushing 
through and over trains in their mad flight, leaving 
them wrecked and their occupants mangled beyond 
recognition. The buffalo the marksmen had wounded 
so that he could no longer follow the herd was quickly 
dispatched. The men dressed the carcass, and each 
one of the campers took a portion of the anima!. 
When we received our share I immediately raked to- 
gether the coals and embers of my breakfast fire, and 
broiled thereon a piece of the fresh meat to satisfy 
my craving appetite. It proved a great disappoint- 
ment, for it was tough, strong and dry. I had heard 
that no meat could equal or excel that of the buffalo, 
but the piece I had cooked was not relished. I also 
learned that this was the meat of an old bull, and we 
had not even taken the best part of the animal, which 



26 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

was the hurap on the shoulders and was considered a 
very choice morsel. After this we saw many large 
droves of buffaloes in the distance. There must have 
been thousands, but they had grown wary. The over- 
land traffic in 1860 was so enormous that the buft'aloes 
kept too far from the main traveled road to give much 
sport to the skillful hunters. We never again fired 
a shot at one. Occasionally we were able to buy from 
the Indians a few pounds of what was then termed 
"jerked buffalo." 'J'his was strips of the wild m^eat 
dried in the sun and wind without salt. The tongues 
of the animals dried in this manner were fairly pala- 
table, but one could chew for hours on one small piece 
of the dried meat, and the longer you chewed the 
bigger it grew. However it was a change from 
salt pork and bacon. 

We passed hundreds of new-made graves on this 
part of our route. One would imagine that an epidemic 
had broken out among those preceding us, so fre- 
quent were these tell-tale mounds of earth. One day 
we overtook a belated team on its way to one of the 
distant forts with only a man and his wife. The wife 
was quite ill in the little tent, having given birth to 
a child a day or two before, which lived only a day. 
The father had put it in a rude box and laid it away 
in its tiny grave by the wayside. The poor mother 
was grieving her heart out at leaving it behind on 
the lonely plain with only a rude stone to mark its 
resting place. 

I think it must have been near the middle or last 
of May when we met our first Indians, a band of 
thirty or forty Cheyennes. They did not trouble us to 
any great extent, although we felt rather annoyed 
at their proximity. The first Siaturday after we came 
into the neighborhood of this tribe we called an early 
halt in the afternoon. For several days the grazing 
for our stock had been very poor, but in this Indian 



BUFFALO COUNTRY 27 

country the buffalo grass was more plentiful, and 
while it was short yet it stood very thickly over the 
ground. The roots of this buffalo grass were long and 
sweet, and the cattle devoured them, with as much 
relish as the tops of the grass. In all stages of ripe- 
ness it was very nutritious, and the stock throve upon 
it. Taking advantage of this good pasturage Ave con- 
cluded to wait over a day or two and let our cattle 
recruit, while James made some needed repairs to the 
wagon. It gave me a convenient time to do my nec- 
essary washing and baking. Continual moving on 
did not give much extra time for cooking, and bacon, 
beans and bread, day after day, became monotonous; 
so I gladly embraced this opportunity to have a change 
of diet. I made dried-apple pies with bacon drippings 
for shortening; and some ginger cookies, with the 
same ingredient entering largely into their composi- 
tion in place of butter. The latter was a scarce com- y 
modity, as all that we had was from the milk of our r 
one little cow. We had soon discovered that by 
pouring our morning's milk into a covered can in the 
wagon, the continual jolting w^ould churn it as we 
moved along, and at night we would have butter 
enough for our evening meal if we used it very spar- 
ingly. For breakfast our bread was dipped in gravy as 
usual ! These two days in camp near a stream gave us 
an opportunity for a bath, and me a chance to wash 
the alkali dust from my hair, and to do the necessary 
mending of our clothing. 

We were now in the midst of numerous bands of 
roving Indians, not hostile to us, but intent on beg- 
ging or stealing. Whenever or wherever we made 
our camp they soon found us and never left us 
throughout the day. This Sunday I had discarded 
an old, worn-out hoop-skirt that I had worn thus far 
on my journey, and much to my amusement and 
amazement as well, it was immediately donned by a 



28 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

huge Indian brave, who strutted proudly among the 
group of Indians who were squatting around our 
camp. As the skek^ton hoop composed the larger part 
of his attire he was a sight to behold. Even the stolid 
squaws were provoked to mirth at the ludicrous 
spectacle. 

The following Monday found us ready to move 
on, and we began very soon to meet team after team 
of disappointed '^Pike's Peakers" returning East. We 
talked with a number of them who had not even gone 
so far, but had been assured by many returning that 
the whole country was a vast humbug. Thej^, too, 
had lost courage and faith and were going back to 
their homes. They told us of hundreds in Denver 
who would gladly work for their board, that men who 
were in the mines could not average a dollar a day, 
and all who could get away were leaving, urging us 
to go no farther. But we were not to be intimidated 
by their doleful tales. We would see for ourselves 
and continued on our way. 

On the level lands and river bottoms of Kansas 
and Colorado were countless numbers of prairie dogs. 
These harmless little animals lived in villages, which 
w© traveled through for weeks. These marmots made 
the air lively with their chattering, a peculiar short 
shrill squeak, rather than a bark, and the honey- 
combed soil was in motion with their antics. Sitting 
on their haunches on top of their pinnacled earth- 
burrows, they would peer curiously at us with their 
shining, beady eyes, until our approach jarred on their 
nerves, when they would suddenly disappear into the 
depths of their burrows. In many places there would be 
hundreds of them on an acre of ground. Beside the 
prairie dogs the coyote became familiar with us, never 
by day at close range however, but at nightfall he 
could be heard prowling about our pans and kettles. 



OUR WHISKEY BARREL. 29 

Occasionally we passed a small settlement where 
a hardy pioneer had built for himself a rude home, 
partly and sometimes wholly of sod, with a rude forge 
and a primitive blacksmith shop and the inevitable 
whiskey mill. As we went farther west these little 
settlements were called cities, although consisting 
only of wretched little m(ud cabins, a few acres of 
land plowed but unfenced, and sometimes beside these 
cabins a wayside house, from ^hose portals swung a. 
wooden sigTi bearing the name Tavern. They were 
queer structures, partly tent and partly cabin. A few 
rough posts would be driven into the ground. These 
supported a ridgepole, across which some old pieces 
of canvas and ragged sailcloth formed a rude and 
primitive shelter, large enough, however to hold sev- 
eral barrels of whiskey. On a dusty shelf above a 
counter made of boards resting on two empty barrels 
were a number of broken and cracked glasses, some 
half-emptied bottles, a few cans of oysters and sar- 
dines, and this constituted the entire outfit of the 
so-called "Tavern." Probably the Boniface of this 
crude establishment knew his business better than we 
did and had decided not to squander his capital in 
articles that were not considered a prime necessity. 

And here I found as well as at other places on the 
road that whiskey was considered a prime necessity 
of every outfit on the plains. This had been the sub- 
ject of many spirited discussions between my husband, 
brother and myself before and after starting on our 
trip. While laying in the supplies for our journey, 
every one said we must take a barrel of that article 
with us. In spite of strenuous objections on my part, 
which were overruled, the whiskey was bought and 
duly stored with the rest of our provisions. At dif- 
ferent points on our journey I began to notice when 
we camped at night and also at our noon halt that 
our wagon had a drawing attraction for many of the 



30 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA' 

other emigrants whose camps were in the vicinity, and 
it finally dawned on me that the barrel of whiskey was 
the alluring charm. While my husband was a tem- 
perate man, yet he was socially and hospitably 
inclined, and many of the emigrants, taking undue 
advantage of these qualities, would too frequently for 
their own good and my peace of mind visit our camp. 
I knew it was useless to complain or interfere. But I 
patiently bided my time, and one day when no one 
was around, I quietly loosened the bung of the barrel 
of whiskey and by nightfall there was nothing left of 
the precious stuff, save the empty barrel and the 
aroma of its spilled contents. Not even a bottle wa« 
saved for emergencies and Ave never needed it. 

The continual walking day after day over the 
hot, dry roads, the wading through heavy sand and 
dust for much of the distance, caused extreme suffer- 
ing to the feet of many emigrants. My husband had 
not taken into consideration that he needed larger and 
roomier boots for this long tramp and continued to 
wear the same size he had been accustomed to wear at 
home. After a few weeks he began to complain that 
his feet hurt him. Every morning it required greater 
effort to get on his boots. At length, finding his feet 
continued to enlarge, he tried splitting his boots open 
to give his feet more room. This of course let in sand 
and alkali dust, which irritated them still more. There 
was no store of any kind on the road where we could 
buy either boots or shoes or any other merchandise. 
Finally his feet became so painful that he discarded 
boots altogether, and becoming too- disabled to walk, 
was compelled to ride in the wagon for several days 
to allow the painful swelling to subside. My brother 
and I took turns in driving the oxen. Finally we met 
a band of Indians from: whom we were able to buy 



MOCCASINS BRING RELIEF 31 

some mwcasins made from deer skin, which were 
large, soft, and comfortable, and afforded great relief. 
They proved to be strong and durable, and lasted 
until we reached Denver, where he was able to replen- 
ish his foot-gear in larger proportions. 



CHAPTER V. 



INDIANS. 



We gradually approached more desolate regions 
where we could look for luiles over immense distances 
and see nothing but the ^ong, dim perspective, and yet 
no sooner were we settled in our camp at evening and 
our fire lighted, when our Indian friends would appear, 
fathers, and mothers, and, judging from their appear- 
ance of old age, grandfathers and grandmothers, 
besides children of all ages, squatting as was their 
custom on the ground, watching silently though with 
greedy hungry eyes every mouthful that was cooked 
or eaten, sitting so near m;y fire that I was compelled 
to step over tlieir feet in getting to and from the mess- 
box while I prepared my evening meal. 

By many crude efforts in the sign language and 
an earnest use of a few Indian words that we had 
picked up among them, we attempted to carry on a 
sort of "Pigeon English" with the various tribes with 
whom we came in contact. There were two words we 
found that were thoroughly understood by them, and 
universally used wherever we met them, and they 
were "Bishket" and "Coffee." It would have been 
impossible for us to have fed any number of them, 
but frequently I gave an old mjan or old woman a cup 
of coffee and a biscuit, which they greedily swallowed, 
or a lump of sugar to a child, which was seized with 
extreme avidity. After finishing our own meal and 
scraping off the remnants of food, bones, and meat 
rinds from our plates to the ground, there would be a 
mad rush of every Indian for the refuse, and it was 

32 



INDIANS 33 

amusing to see the scramble that ^vouUl ensue for the 
discarded scraps. After lingering a while and finding 
there was no prospect of getting anything more toieat, 
they would slip away one by one as silently as they 
came, but- there was no sign of any habitation, unless 
they burrowed in the ground. 

AVhen camping one Sunday near the Platte river 
we were surrounded by Indians as usual w^henever we 
stopped for any length of time, and their continual 
attendance left us little, privacy. This Sunday I 
had washed my long hair to free it from the dust of 
travel and was engaged in brushing and combing out 
the tangles, having near me a small hand mirror. 
One brave who had been watching me very intently, 
was such a hideous looking creature that I wondered 
if he could know how repulsive he looked. Without 
a moment's thought I took up the hand-glass and held 
it before him. I never saw such a look of surprise 
and consternation as came over his stolid counte- 
nance. He took the mirror in his hand, looked in- 
tently into it for some moment's turned it over, ex- 
amined and looked again. Then taking it among 
the other Indians who were loitering in our camp, 
he showed them the mirror with their different re- 
flections therein, which seemed to cause them much 
curious amusement, I think this must have been 
their first experience in seeing themselves as others 
saw them^. After a while he brought the mirror back 
to me. I had given up all hopes of having it in my 
possession again. At length this Indian with sev- 
eral of his tribe silently departed, but in a few hours 
returned with some new" recruits, all decked in their 
paint, feathers, beads, and blankets. Approaching 
me he made signs for the mirror again. When I 
handed it to him he burst forth in a guttural sort of 
laugh and immediately turned it on his new followers, 
who in turn expressed much amazement at this first 



34 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

view of themselves. The Indians generally were not 
voluble, but a wonderful flow of unintelligible 
sounds came to my ears as they discussed among 
themselves the merits or demerits of the strange 
little mirror. 

A band of mounted Sioux met us one day. They 
were friendly in their advances and stopped to trade 
with us. I would state here that the Sioux Indians 
were the finest looking warriors we had seen. Their 
ponies and horses were richly caparisoned, and their 
blankets, which were supplied by the United States 
government, were gay with bright colors. The head- 
dress of the men was unique and imposing. Sable 
braids of hair fell down each side of their painted 
faces, and the crowns of their heads were decorated 
with the colored feathers from the wild birds of the 
mountain and plain. Their buckskin jackets were 
jeweled Avith beads and hung with the teeth of wild 
animals. Descending from their long braids of hair, 
were graduating discs of bright silver made from the 
half-dollars that were paid them by the government. 
These were hammered out very thin, until the first was 
as large as a small saucer, and the others grew gradu- 
ally smaller as they reached nearly to the ground. 
These discs were hung on strong but slender strips 
of buckskin, and glittered gaily in the bright sun- 
light, as the warriors, mounted on their fleet ponies 
galloped over the plain. 

We found the Sioux tribe very friendly, too 
friendly in fact, for my peace of mind, for one huge 
brave, gayly bedecked and most grotesquely painted, 
took a great fancy to me. Bringing a number of 
ponies to our camp, he at length made my husband 
understand that he wanted me in exchange. This 
wias the first time T was really frightened at their 
advances. Though I knew they were a friendly band 
and under the care "and protection of the government, 



INDIANS 35 

yet I was filled with a fear that I could not wholly 
overcome, and urged my husband to move on as rap- 
idly as possible, so Ave left our camp next morning 
before the break <of day. About noon, as we ascended 
some low rolling hills, I looked back on the plain 
and saw a number of mounted Indians approaching 
us very rapidly and driving a large band of ponies 
before them. My heart almost ceased beating, as we 
were completely at their mercy if they meant us harm. 
Finally they overtook us. We halted our team and 
had a lengtliy parley with them. They proved to be 
the brave and his followers of the day before. He 
had added more ponies' to his band, thinking my hus- 
band had refused to trade because they had not 
offered a sufficient number. After numerous signs 
and shakes of the head, they at last understood there 
was no prospect of business. Very reluctantly they 
mounted their ponies and left us, to my great relief. 
The next few days I rode very closely in the wagon. 
Before they departed, however, I cooked them a good 
dinner, and James treated them liberally to his best 
tobacco, so we parted good friends. 

Early in the forenoon of one eventful day we mef 
the first war-like band of Indians. I was walking 
some distance ahead of the wagon, when in that clear 
bright atmosphere there appeared on the level plain 
a cloud of dust far off to the left of our road. I usu- 
ally carried the field glasses with me and I quickly 
looked to see what I could discover. At first the dust 
was so dense that the eye could not penetrate it, but 
soon there was revealed the forms of many moving 
animals. My first thoughts were "buffaloes," and I 
hurriedly retraced my steps to the wagon and the 
protection of my husband and brother. I had scarcely 
reached the wagon before my ears were filled with the 
din of most uncanny character, and out of the cloud 
of dust on numerous ponies rode a formidable looking 



36 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

band of Indians, many of them arrayed in the most 
whimsical and barbarous style that one could imagine. 

There was not the slightest attempt at uniformity 
in costume. Some of them wore the discarded and 
ragged clothes of emigrants, from which hung strings 
of buckskin knotted with gay beads and buttons, and 
interspersed here and there with a tin spoon or fork 
stolen from the emigrants. Their faces were painted 
in the most grotes(]ue manner, and their coarse and 
matted hair, which grew long and scraggy, was orna- 
mented with tufts of feathers from the wild birds 
of the plain and the tails of wild animals. Some were 
attired in the usual breech cloth, while many were 
wrapped in gaudy blankets of red and blue. Among 
this motley crowd were several that might have been 
devils let loose from the so-called infernal regions, 
for on their beetle brows were crowns made from 
buifalo horns, their limbs naked to the knee, were 
covered with buckskin leggings and on their feet were 
moccasins. Others had made great effort to array 
themselves in fanciful attire of skins peculiarly 
painted and embroidered by their skillful squaws, 
i'et we discovered among the number some few who 
were not dressed at all. 

As they bore down on us in their rapid approach 
we were almost speechless with fright. Our first 
impression was that we were to be annihilated at 
once. We saw at a glance that they were warriors 
ready for the fray, and had made elaborate prepara- 
tions to go forth on the war path. They were armed 
with all sorts of weapons, knives and shields of 
various and strange devices, but the bow and arrow, 
the natural weapon of the red man was most in evi- 
dence. They surrounded our wagon on all sides, 
making numerous signs and gestures and uttering 
words of Indian jargon that were Greek to us, for 
we could not understand a syllable. Then despair- 



INDIANS 37 

ing of making themselves understood, they pointed 
first east then west, then to their ponies and held up 
their hands with extended fingers. All in vain. We 
could only shake our heads. At last, finding it was 
only a waste of time to parley with us, their chieftain 
gave the command, and re-mounting their ponies, 
they sped away, giving voice again to their blood- 
curdling yells and leaving us to recover slowly from 
our suspense. We drew a long breath of relief when 
we realized that we were still possessed of our usual 
amount of hair. We afterwards learned that they 
were in pursuit of some other marauding band of 
Indians who had stolen and run off with a large num- 
ber of their ponies. 

That night we camped near a few cottonwoods 
on the banks of a small stream. The wind blew^ in 
fitful gusts and the limbs of the cottonwoods rocked 
restlessly, making mournful sounds. From every side 
we were startled by noises we could not place; strange 
rustlings caused us to peer sharply into the shadows, 
footsteps seemed to stealthily approach and then 
skulk away; even the thin and scraggy bushes 
appeared to suddenly close together as if some one 
were behind them, and we feared that the Indians of 
the day, knowing that we were alone, might surround 
Hs in the hours of darkness, take us unawares, and 
massacre us. None of us slept through the long hours 
of that night. We were afraid to close our eyes for 
fear of their stealthy return, but dawn found us 
unmolested. 

I have said that neither the Indians nor ourselves 
could understand each other in conversation. Yet we 
found on several occasions, that they had picked up 
and readily adopted a number of phrases from the 
emigrants, particularly the teamsters, whose vocab- 
ulary of profane words was extensive. The usual sal- 
utation of the Indians whom we first met was "How." 



38 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

But after hearing the irate teamsters from day to day 
cursing their overworked and often contrary cattle, 
the Indians very quickly adopted some of their pet 
phrases. Often when we met them they saluted us 
in this manner, "Gee, Whoa, Haw. G-d d-n you," and 
did not appear to know that this was not the regular 
manner of saluting. 

We saw but few Indian lodges. Those we did see 
were of the Sioux and Pawnee tribes. Usually their 
camps were remote from the traveled highway. We had 
been induced to take a shorter cut that took us in 
sight of one of their encampments. These lodges were 
built in circular form, a number of light poles form- 
ing the support, around which were stretched buf- 
falo hides which the squaws had ingeniously sewed 
together. Some of these lodges were unique in their 
way, decorated and painted in accordance with the 
red man's idea of art, with grotesque faces and queer 
figures of animals, and strange hieroglyphics emblem- 
atic of something in their creed. Many of these tribes 
did not bury their dead. Perceiving at some distance 
poles set upright on the ground and what appeared 
to us like a huge shelf above them, we saw on 
approaching nearer the form of a hum&n body well 
wrapped in blankets and buffalo skins, and found 
that it was the Indian manner of burial. 

A little familiai'ity with these aborigines will 
convince one that it needs a very poetic mind to make 
them even bearable. We found them not only lazy 
but covered with vermin and while squatting around 
our camp it was the principal relaxation of the 
squaws to spend their time overlooking the heads of 
their papooses and catching and killing the insects 
that inhabited them', very much to my disgust. The 
Indian man abhors labor, and they looked on the 
white man with scorn and derision whenever they 
performed any duties to relieve the labors of their 



INDIANS 39 

wives. The squaw accepted her life of toil as her just 
due for being- born a woman. It was the squaw who 
dressed and tanned the skins and made the garments 
that the lazy Indian wore. It was she who manu- 
factured the rough utensils in which the food was 
cooked. It was she who took down and pitched the 
rude wigwam and gathered the fuel, dressed and 
cooked the game, often walking for miles to bring it 
home, when her arrogant lord returned from the hunt. 
She made his rude tents after tanning and dressing 
the rough hides of which they were made, his mocca- 
sins and his clothing. In many of the tribes these 
women were exceedingly skillful, and it was wonderful 
what an amount of work they could accomplish with 
the most primitive tools. In addition to all this,, when 
she felt the pangs of approaching motherhood, the 
squaw would betake herself to the banks of some near- 
by stream and there all alone without the aid of a nurse 
or accoucheur her babe would come into the world. 
After giving her new-born child a hasty dip in the cold 
stream, it was w^rapped in a rough skin, strapped to 
a board and borne back to camp on the mother's 
shoulders. Then with all the stoicism for which the 
Indian character is noted, she resumed her inter- 
rupted duties. 



CHAPTER VI 

TRIALS OF THE SPIRIT. — I'HIRSTING FOR WATER. — GATH- 
ERING BUFFALO CHIPS. — SICK ON THE DESERT. — P,AY 
RUM^ BERGAMONT^ AND CASTOR OIL. — MIRAGE. 

Even to the most courageous there were hours 
of depression and discouragement. Our days were 
not always sunshine, nor our route through pleasant 
lands. The fertile soil covered but a small portion 
of our journey between the Missouri river and Denver. 
After the first mbnth or six wrecks of our pilgrimage 
the change of vegetation became very apparent. The 
sage brush, that forerunner of sterile soil, began to 
crop out here and there. The farther we traveled the 
thicker it grew, particularly in the dry and sandy 
localities. Its only redeeming feature that I could dis- 
cover was that it served for fuel in the absence of any 
other wood. We were amazed at the magnitude of these 
barren, unfenced plains. The occasional little hamlet 
was left behind and only at rare intervals did we come 
on the solitary cabin of some brave pre-emptor, 
who showed more courage than wisdom in settling 
on such a forlorn hope in Uncle Sam's domains. The 
wind had full sweep over these barren plains. Many 
times it was almost impossible for any one to walk 
against it. Frequently we staked our wagon down 
with ropes and also our stock to keep them from 
stampeding, for the wind and showers of blinding 
sand came with such force that neither man nor beast 
could face it. At such times we could cook no food, 
but crawling into the wagon, tying down the covers 

40 



TRIALS OP THE SPIRIT 41 

on every side, were forced to content ourselves with 
dry crackers and molasses. 

These winds tried my patience sorely and seemed 
to act directly on the nerves; and as for cooking 
around a camp-fire when the wind was blowing a gale, 
it required a greater amount of fortitude and self- 
control than I possessed. I tried to keep my hasty 
temper within bounds, but no matter on which side 
of the fire I stood when cooking, the ever shifting 
smoke blinded me, and the gale whisked my short 
skirts over the fire, until I found not only my clothes 
but my temper ablaze. I would make a brave effort 
to be cheerful and patient until the camp work was 
done. Then starting out ahead of the team and my 
men folks, when I thought I had gone beyond hearing 
distance, I would throw myself down on the unfriendly 
desert and give Avay like a child to sobs and tears, 
wishing myself back home with my friends and chid- 
ing myself for consenting to take this wild-goose 
chase. But after a good cry I would feel relieved, 
and long before I was again visible to husband or 
brother, I had assumed a miore cheerful frame of 
mind, whether I felt it or not. 

Besides wind and rain storms we would often 
encounter great swarms of gnats, which would annoy 
our stock almost to the verge of madness, stinging our 
own faces and hands, getting into our food and making 
it impossible to drink our coffee, without first skim- 
ming them off. These swarms of insects would last 
two or three days before we would leave them 
behind us. 

As we proceeded on our journey the streams of 
water grew smaller and farther apart and the great 
plains drier and dustier. There were days of travel 
with scarcely enough water for our stock, and that so 
strongly impregnated with alkali that a very small 
quantity would satisfy. Oh, how we longed for the 



42 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

sight of a cold, clear spring of water. We could 
sometimes see for miles ahead of us what looked to our 
longing eyes a lake 'of limpid water, but on coming 
nearer it we found it was only a thin alkali incrus- 
tation covering many acres of the -smooth sands, and 
later on we were compelled to make a drive of nearly 
sixty miles without a drop of water for our stock. 
Our poor cattle were choked and dry with the great 
thirst. When at last they scented water they were 
almost unmanageable, and struck a bee-line for it, pay- 
ing not the slightest attention to the roadway, but 
speeding as fast as they could travel over hills and 
hummocks, caring naught for the safety or comfort of 
those riding in the wagon. While in this almost arid 
region we endeavored to keep our small keg filled with 
water, but found it impossible to carry enough for 
our stock. Indeed we had to use it very sparingly 
ourselves. 

Through many parts of Kansas, Nebraska, and 
Colorado the question of fuel was constantly before 
us. Days and days passed without seeing a piece of 
timber as big as one's little finger. Our only fuel was 
buffalo chips. This was the sun-dried excrement of 
that animal. It was my custom in the early hours 
of the afternoon as I walked, to carry a basket or sack, 
and fill it with buffalo chips, often wandering a dis- 
tance from the road to find a sufficient quantity with 
which to cook our evening meal and enough to bake 
our bread for the next day. This proved at last to 
be quite a laborious task for me, because the numer- 
ous caravans ahead of us had gathered up all that lay 
near the roadway and I was compelled to cover con- 
siderable territory before finding a sufficient supply. 
The sack of buffalo chips became a heavy burden 
before I reached the wagon. I had been performing 
this task for days, when one afternoon we passed 
some low hills on which grew a few dwarfed and 



SICK ON THE DESERT 43 

Stunted pine trees. They were only about a quarter 
of a mile from the road, and I asked James and my 
brother to drive to them, and cut me enough of the 
wood to last us for a day or two. But men on the 
plains I had found were not so accommodating nor 
so ready to serve or wait upon women as they were in 
mlore civilized communities. Driving a lot of wayward 
cattle all day in the hot sun, over heavy roads of 
sand and dust was not conducive to politeness or 
accommodation. When the drivers were weary and 
foot-sore, they were none too ready to deviate a hand's 
breadth from the traveled road. Therefore, as it 
required almost half a mile of extra effort to get that 
wood for me, they thought it unnecessary trouble and 
refused. 

I was feeling somewhat under the weather and 
unusually tired, and crawling into the wagon told 
them if they wanted fuel for the evening meal they 
could get it themselves and cook the mteal also, and 
laying my head down on a pillow, I cried myself to 
sleep. When I awakened, I found that we had camped 
and they were taking me at my word. The only fuel 
in sight was across the deep and cold stream of the 
Platte, but they waded across the stream hatchet in 
hand, the water coming up to their hips. On the 
farther side grew some small willows which they cut 
and bore on their shoulders back to camp, and after 
many efforts at last got the fire to burn and the sup- 
per cooked. James came to the wagon where I was 
lying and meekly asked how much baking powder to 
put in the biscuits. I replied shortly, "Oh, as much as 
you please." I will admit that his biscuits that night 
were as light and nice as any that I have ever eaten, 
and both he and my brother were quite elated with 
their success in getting the evening meal, and said it 
did not matter whether I cooked any more for them 
as they could do just as well if not better than I did. 



44 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

The coffee also vruB fine, but the dried corn which 
they had tried to cook was not a complete success; 
This was a delicacy we did not indulge in every day. 
It was usually saved for a special treat for our Sun- 
day dinner, and I had always put it to soak for several 
hours to soften it before cooking, a precaution the 
new cooks had not taken. 

I was hungry and ate too heartily of the under- 
done corn. The consequence was that I was very ill 
with a severe and painful attack of dysentery for sev- 
eral days. Finally becoming so weakened that I 
could no longer climb in or out of the wagon, I was 
compelled to keep my bed as we journeyed along. 
The jolting motion of the wagon soon became a per- 
fect torture to me, and at last became so unendurable 
that I implored my husband to take me out, make my 
bed on the sand and let me die in peace. He, poor 
man, was very much alarmed at my condition, and 
was at his wit's end to know what to do for me. Com- 
plying with my wish, he had halted the teami in the 
middle of the forenoon and was preparing my bed on 
the ground. We were in the meantime overtaken by 
another emigrant team, whose sole occupant Avas a 
blunt, old Missourian. He stopped to inquire the cause 
of our delay so early in the day. James told him of 
my illness, describing my symptoms The old man 
then said, ^'What your woman needs is a good, big 
dose of castor ile. Tliat'll straighten her out all right." 

Now €ne of the most peculiar oversights in pre- 
paring for this journey was that we had not provided 
ourselves with any medicine. Not one of us had ever 
been ill, nor had we been accustomled to illness in our 
families, and our friends believing in the hydropathic 
treatment, had not suggested such a need to us. We 
were also five hundred miles from a drug store, but 
after a moment's thought, I remembered that among 
the toilet articles in my trunk was a bottle containing 



BAY RUM, BEBGAMONT AND CASTOR OIL 45 

castor oil, bergamont, and bay rum, put up specially 
for a hair tonic that was much in vogue at that time. 
This was sought for at once by m^ husband, and pour- 
ing out a tea cup full of the vile stuff in order to get 
enough of the oil, with grim determination I swal- 
lowed it down. Oh, the horror of that draught! To 
this day I never smell the odors of bay rum or berga- 
mont without the vision of a poor, sick emigrant 
woman lying on the sands of the desert. Offensive 
and obnoxious as the dose was, it had the desired 
effect and acted like a charm. I have since recom- 
mended the remedy a number of timies. In a few 
days I was quite recovered and ready to continue our 
interrupted journey. I noticed that my men folks 
were only too willing to turn over the culinary 
department to me again, and really made quite 
commendable efforts to keep me supplied with fuel 
thereafter. 

The United States government sent out many 
trains of provisions to the different posts that were 
stationed far out on the plains, and these wagon 
trains would often travel near each other for help 
and protection, their white canvas-covered wagons 
sometimes reaching as far as the eye could see. Many 
of these trains Avere composed entirely of ox teams, 
and their drivers had a profane vocabulary that sent 
cold chills over me. Never in my life had I heard 
such strings of oaths come from the mouth of man. 
These immense caravans were called bull trains and 
their captains called bull-train bosses. The men who 
drove the teams were called bull whackers. All of 
these government teamsters in their moments of leis- 
ure were anxious for something to read. Before leav- 
ing homte I had stowed away among my belongings a 
few favorite volumes to while away the hours of 
enforced leisure- My Shakespeare,. Byron, and Burns 
and a few others that I could not part with I soon 



'4(5 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

learned to hide very carefully and peruse with drawn 
curtains, or they would have disappeared from my eye. 
The few novels and magazines that I possessed were 
loaned and re-loaned until they were so tattered and 
torn as to be scarcely legible. It was astonishing 
how great was the demand for something to read in 
those days of overland travel. The inajority of those 
crossing the plains had taken no books with them, 
burdening themselves with nothing save the bare 
necessities of life. Anything in the shape of print 
was greedily devoured. Every scout, trapper, or other 
lone frontiersman with whom we came in contact 
would eagerly inquire for old newspapers, magazines 
or novels, — anytliing to read. It was impossible to 
buy reading matter on the road in those days. In fact 
over a stretch of five hundred miles there were only 
three or four postoffices, and from the time we left 
St. Josei)h on the Missouri river until we reached 
Denver, three long months, we had had no news from 
home and the dear ones left behind us. 

At intervals we were electrified with a passing 
glimpse of the overland stage, bearing the miails and 
sometimes passengers from the East, but they flew 
by us with such break-neck speed, that it was impos- 
sible to even hail them. Yet I still watched for them 
day by day for they seemed to be a connecting link 
between us and civilization. Occasionally we would 
pass an overland stage station, a low hut or cabin 
constructed wholly of adobe or dried mud. These 
huts were said to be very cool in summer and warm 
in winter, their walls being from two to three feet 
in thickness, and WTre considered proof against the 
severe blizzards that swept over the country, as well 
as bullet proof in attacks from hostile Indians. I 
often wished that I might look into one of those huts, 
but never chanced to pass one when the host was at 
home. I had not the temeritv to invade one without 



MIRAGE 47 

invitation, although t}ie latch-string invariably hnug 
on the outside. We usually stopped only long enough 
to take a drink from the rusty cup that hung from a 
pail of water near the door. 

One of the most wonderful sights on these deso- 
late plains was the mirage. The first time this strange 
phenomenon appeared I was filled with astonishment. 
While riding one day along the monotonous level 
road and gazing ahead at the wide expanse of sand 
and sage brush, a peculiarly brilliant and dazzling 
light appeared like sunlight on the water. My first 
impression was that we were approaching a lake or 
some other large body of water. As I looked, 
this seemed to change, and a number of buildings 
cam-e into view, but all upside down, and while still 
gazing at them they slowly faded from my vision, and 
the supposed water again came into view. I was so 
overcome with the wonderful vision that I could not 
wait for the others to overtake me, and turning my 
horse, rode rapidly back to the wagon to see if my 
husband and brother had witnessed the wonderful 
sight. They were as miuch surprised as myself, and 
though we had often read of the phenomena of mir- 
ages, this was our first sight of one. After that we saw 
them several times. 

From Cottonwood after a tedious, long drive, we 
arrived one night at a place called Fremont springs, 
and here we found a fine spring of clear, cool, 
delicious water. For days we had climbed and 
descended hills and passed through a series of sand 
canyons. For many miles after leaving Cottonwood 
our road lay near the creeping, treacherous Platte. 
The Platte itself was not alkaline, but many times our 
trail was some distance from the river, and our cat- 
tle would become so thirsty before they could be 
driven to the river^ that they would seek to satisfy 
their thirst in the manv shallow lakelets that 



48 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

abounded near the stream, and these lakelets were 
in many instances almost saturated solutions of soda 
and potash. We ourselves as well as our poor cat- 
tle enjoyed the delicious draughts from Fremont 
springs, which was considered the finest water be- 
tween the Rocky, mountains and the Missouri river. 
We felt like falling down and worshipping this foun- 
tain, cooling the parched lips of man and beast wbose 
fate had led them beside the stagnant pool and dull, 
creeping, muddy waters of the Platte. 

Much of our journey after leaving Cottonwood 
was near and in siglit of the South Platte river, but 
its proximity failed to moisten the stretches of sand 
along our gloomy pathway. It crawled along between 
low banks, and one day I ventured to take a batli in 
its waters, but on descending its banks, the oozy 
loam glided too swiftly beneath my feet and in a 
moment I realized I was in its treacherous quick- 
sands. I scrambled up the bank by main force, shud- 
dering to think how soon I might have been engulfed 
in the muddy depths of its deceptive waters. On 
these desert wastes the wind blew^ at a rate of ten 
knots an hour and it Avas so filled with sand that it 
seemed like earth in motion instead of air. Along 
this dreary route we walked day by day. Everything 
was grey. The few sickly weeds that grew upon its 
dry soil would crumble at the touch ; here and there a 
single sunflower gave a touch of color; a few sickly 
cacti bloomed. Flowers that had enlivened the land- 
scape farther back had entirely disappeared. In their 
place the naked land swarmed with ant-hills and 
myriads of grasshoppers and huge brown crickets 
abounded. At night the wind blew even more vio- 
lently, and the tempest of sand that came flying with 
it filled the air, and everything that lay untouched 
for a time was powdered half an inch deep with it. 

Through one of these storms the overland stage 



LEAVING THE DESERT 49 

from the East overtook and passed us. It surged 
along bearing about a dozen wearied, dusty, dejected- 
looking passengers. I noticed that they seemed to be 
hanging on to life at the neck of sundry flat pocket 
flasks. As we came near Denver, the South Platte 
seemed to make its nearest approach to beauty, and 
in many places it was studded with beautiful islands, 
picturesque indeed with their emerald green foliage of 
graceful willows. When we neared Beaver creek a 
beautiful landscape began to unfold. The river 
seemed to widen out into a huge lagoon. I remember 
the rosy hues of a beautiful sunrise that unfolded to 
our view. The mirrored water was filled with wild 
ducks, the river swarming with teal and mallard, their 
beautiful green and blue plumage looking gay in the 
early sunlight as they glided through the water with 
exquisite grace. 

The journey toward Denver might have been 
divided into four stages, — the prairies, the less fertile 
plains, the desert, and then the Rocky mountains. 
At this late day it is very easy to underrate the toil- 
some marches of many weeks — now that one can travel 
in forty-eight hours over an extent of country which 
forty or fifty years ago baffled the progress of the 
venturesome pioneer. I remember how joyfully we 
greeted the first scrubby pine trees, giving us hope 
that the desert was nearly past and the mountains 
were not far off. Their soft and tender green was 
soothing to our sunburnt vision, and when we halted 
at nightfall we found a numerous band, who had 
made the long journey through this woodless region, 
building huge fires with the dead pine branches, and 
taking solid comfort in the cheer and warmth of the 
ruddy, leaping blaze of which they had been so long 
deprived. Soon the foothills of the Rocky mountains 
were in evidence. 

Arriving at Bijou, Colorado, we encountered one 



50 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

of the severest storms I ever saw on the plains. We 
imagined we had seen severe storms in Kansas, but 
this one descended on us so suddenly and the rain and 
sleet came down in such torrents, that we had 
scarcely time to stow away the provisions made for 
our evening meal. While James and my brother were 
hurriedly chaining our oxen to the wagon to prevent 
them from stampeding before the pelting rain and 
sleet, and staking the wagon to the ground to keep it 
from being overturned by the fierce wind, I and my lit- 
tle son climbed into the wagon for shelter. The noise 
of the rain and hail on our canvas cover was deafen- 
ing and seemed as if it Avould tear our frail shelter 
into tatters. No warm supper for us that night. 
We crawled into . our blankets damp, tired, and 
hungry, wondering how long it would continue. Not 
until after midnight was the wild fury of the storm 
somewhat abated. A drizzling rain succeeded which 
made the roads almost impassable for days, while the 
heavy grades became so steep and slippery that we 
were compelled to wait for help to pull us up their 
steep inclines. As we came nearer the foothills these 
high winds seemed to become more prevalent and 
swept over us at times with relentless force. Every 
night our \^agon Avas securely staked to prevent an 
upset by the fury of the gale. These high winds no 
doubt accounted for the lack of timber, for the 
young trees were so rocked and wrenched that their 
roots were not firm enough to draw up what little 
nourishment the porous soil could give them. 

But gradually a change was taking place. The 
pine trees which appeared at intervals, although 
stunted and dwarfed, gave variety and softness to 
the landscape which hitherto had been so monotonous 
and drear. The hills became more rolling, and the val- 
leys deeper with water courses more frequent in their 
depths, and our thirsty stock could drink their fill 



LEAVING THE DESERT 51 

without robbing those who came after us. The timber- 
less plain ceased to be desert and was once more 
fertile. Our progress now was one of gradual ascent. 
In many instances our pathway was imlovely and 
unsatisfactory. Here and there a shady ridge for- 
cibly reminded us of the drift of the many terrible 
sand storms we had so often passed through. When 
darkness came upon us, near some little mountain 
stream, where we made our lonely camp, our voices 
sounded singularly clear in the cool, clear air, and 
instinctively we drew nearer each other withtheknowl- 
edge of our loneliness. This loudness of our voices 
was the first thing we noticed that gave evidence of 
a change of air from the plains. We could distinctly 
hear the sound of a human voice two or three hundred 
rods away. 

Far out on the plains for m,iles before reaching 
Denver, we were told to keep a sharp lookout for a 
first view of Pike's Peak, and for many days we were 
straining our vision to the extreme limit. The first 
view I had of the mountain was in the form of a 
vaporous cloud. Gradually this began to form a 
sharper and more distinct outline, until at last we 
could see clearly the glittering peak, covered with 
snow, rising to a height far above all other peaks, like 
a sentinel watching over the plain. As our gaze 
rested from time to time on this Monarch of the 
Mountains, so full of majesty and power, other less 
lofty peaks were presented to our view, until finally 
the whole majestic range of the Rocky mountains 
was outlined before us. As our eyes were fixed upon 
the towering mountains looming up so grandly, we 
easily fancied that an ordinary swift pedestrian 
could reach them in a day's length. At any rate 
our slow-mioving team w-ould bring us to them in a 
few short hours. But for days our course westward 



52 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

still lay along the plain and over additional rising 
foothills, while many weary miles intervened before 
we entered these mountain gorges and explored the 
strange and mysterious paths leading us up and down 
through those lofty ranges. 



CHAPTER yil. 

INFANT DENVER. — HANGING BY THE VIGILANCE COM- 
MITTEE. AN INDIAN AND HIS SCALPS. — THE PART- 
ING WITH MY BROTHER. — A SALE OF GLASSWARE. — 
ON TO CAIJP^ORNIA. 

At last in the latter part of June, after three 
months' wearisiome journey, we made our way down 
the mountains and over the lower range of the foot» 
hills into the then primitive village of Denver. Pic- 
ture if you can an almost level plain surrounded on 
all sides by towering mountains, whose highest peaks 
were snow crowned even in midsummer. In the center 
of this great plain stood Denver. I shall never forget 
our advent into that "City of the Mountain and 
Plain." A few days previous we had fallen in with 
several wagons with their full complement of men, 
women, and children, — a motley crowd, the men 
unshaven and unshorn, with long, sunburnt whiskers, 
their stained and weather-beaten garments begrimed 
with the dust and dirt of the plains, — the women and 
children with their huge sun bonnets pulled over 
sunburnt brows, ragged, unkempt and dirty, their 
short, rough dresses in tatters from coming into too 
frequent contact with the camp fire, many of them 
bare footed from the rough roads and long travel 
which had played sad havoc with their only pair of 
shoes. I doubt whether any one of us would have 
been recognized, so changed was our exterior from 
the trim and nattily-attired trio that left home 
in the early spring, now wearied with urging contrary 

53 



54 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

and tired cattle over miles of treeless and waterless 
wastes, barren deserts and alkali plains. 

I had pictured Denver a thriving, bustling, busy 
city, but nearly fifty years ago it was an exceedingly 
primitive town, consisting of numerous tents and 
numbers of rude and illy constructed cabins, with 
nearly as many rum shops and low saloons as cabins, 
Horses, cows, and hogs roamed at will over the greater 
part of the village. Very few of the humble homes 
were enclosed with a fence. These inferior shanties, 
built of logs and rough boards, were clustered together 
near the banks of Cherry creek. In the lower part 
of the town the vacant places were occupied by the In- 
dian huts of a band of the Arapahoe tribe, who were 
at war with the Utes, and who trusted that the pres- 
ence of the white man in their vicinity would afford 
protection to their families against attack, while 
their own braves were off" fighting or stealing in the 
mountains beyond. The relations of the Arapahoes 
and the Ute Indians were not of the most cordial 
character, for hereditary feuds and occasional warlike 
sallies had from time to time disturbed that perfect 
mjutual concord so important for neighbors to main- 
tain. Each tribe prided itself on its superiority to 
the other, and it would be deemed a gTeat disgrace for 
an Arapahoe maiden to marry a Ute, and vice versa. 
Their poor, overworked squaws were busily engaged 
in the labors of the camp, cooking their vile com- 
pounds, and making the skins of wild animals into the 
uncouth garments that they wore. Loafing around 
in the sand and dirt were the indolent and unemployed 
braves, while their filthy and vermin-covered offspring 
played naked in the sand. These so-called braves 
wore nothing but a narrow strip of cloth around their 
loins. While we were still camping in Denver, the 
warriors who had gone out to give battle to the Utes 
returned, bringing with them a number of horses 



INFANT DENVER 55 

captured from the eiiemj, and making both night and 
day hideous with their pow-wovvs and secret incanta- 
tions. The dismal wailing and howling of the squaws, 
bringing back from the fight their dead and wounded, 
made the surroundings anything but cheerful. 

Before our arrival, and imagining Denver to be 
a city with some pretensions to civilization, I had 
confided to my husband my intention of making a 
more prepossessing toilet before appearing on its 
streets. I carefully donned my best riding habit, and 
made myself as comely as circumstances would allow. 
Mounting my horse sidewise in the saddle, which I 
had hitherto ridden astride, I gaily rode through the 
one street of the town until we crossed a rude bridge, 
spanning Cherry creek. Here .our wayward cattle 
balked. A loud crack from the swirling whip urging 
them on frightened my "Rosinante," who gave his 
accustomed squat, and I found myself ingloriously 
dismounted and lying at full length on the boards of 
the bridge. I was quickly lifted up by a chivalrous 
miner. After this ignominious debut I was only too 
glad to retire from sight under the cover of our wagoii 
until we found a place to locate. We drove across the 
stream and camped on the banks of the Cherry creek 
opposite the village. We were very much discouraged 
by the outlook and the surroundings. The whole 
town seemied to be in a turmoil. In front of our camp 
on the other side of the creek we witnessed the hanging 
of two men by the Vigilance Committee. This filled 
me with horror and dismay, although doubtless they 
deserved it, for the town was overflowing with vile 
characters. 

During our short stay in Denver we removed the 
bed of the wagon from off the running gear, to make 
some necessary repairs, and placed it upon the ground. 
One morning James had gone into the town to pur- 
chase some needed supplies, leaving me and my little 



56 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

son alone in camp, although other campers were in 
onr vicinity. I had baked my day's supply of bread 
and placed it in the back of the wagon to cool. Seat- 
ing myself in the front of the wagon bed, for more 
privacy I had drawn my curtains while I sat busily 
mending and conversing with my child. Suddenly, 
without sound or warning, my curtain was rudely 
pulled aside and there before me stood a huge, repul- 
sive-looking Indian demanding bread. His tone and 
manner was so insolent and overbearing that it aroused 
my ire, and although frightened I assumed a brave 
front and quickly told him' I had no bread to give him. 
Hesaid,"You heap lie. Plenty bread," at the same time 
pointing to my cooling loaves, but I shook my head 
and gave him to understand that he could not have 
it. My brother's gun stood within the wagon close 
beside me. The Indian readied in as if to take it, but 
I anticipated his thoughts, and seizing the gim, placed 
it beyond his reach. While his gaze was fixed upon me 
in open-eyed wonder, I also had time to look him over 
andsawhangingat his belt a number of bleeding scalps 
taken in the last fight with the Utes. These he loos- 
ened for my closer inspection and handing them to 
me, told or tried to tell in his broken jargon of 
English and Indian what a brave chieftain he was. 
Keeping up the show of courage I had assumed for 
the occasion, but inwardly quaking, I took the bunch 
of bloody scalps in my hands and counted theml, tak- 
ing care, however, that my hands should not come in 
contact with the blood. The Indian looked amazed 
and surprised at my temerity, and with the startled 
exclamation, "Humph, white squaw no fear," left me 
as suddenly as he came. 

The people that inhabited the embryo city of 
Denver were a most diverse and varied lot. Every 
class of citizen was represented. Doctors, lawyers, 
merchants, stage drivers, gamblers and preachers, 



THE PARTING WITH MY BROTHER 57 

were all in evidence and from the general sty'e of 
dress it was difficult to make a distinction. All alike 
wore the red flannel shirt of the miner and ox driver. 
The most prosperous lawyer or the most successful 
business man or merchant was as roughly garbed 
as the commonest laborer. Low drinking saloons were 
to be seen on every hand, and gambling dens of every 
kind abounded. Many of the squalid adventurers 
lived in the crudest manner, with no law save that 
enacted by the Vigilance Committee. No wonder 
that so many coming into this dismal village, chafed 
and irritated with their long journey, were dis- 
heartened and discouraged and turned their faces 
homewards. Miners and laborers were constantly 
coming into Denver from the various mining districts 
with conflicting reports. We hardly knew whom or 
what to believe. Many of them were out of money 
and out of heart. Others who had been more fortu- 
nate told of the rich strikes they had made. 

We met and talked with a number of these more 
optimistic prospectors who had recently come down 
for more supplies from a place that was then known 
as "Gregory's Diggings." Their encouraging reports 
of gold discovered re-kindled the ardor of my brother, 
who thus far on our journey had been satisfied to stay 
with us, but who now decided that he was tired of 
travel, and was persuaded to go back with the pros- 
pectors to the mines. Taking with him a few tools 
and a stock of provisions and with high hopes that he 
was to make his fortune in a little while and return 
home a rich mjan, he started for the mines. He was 
as sanguine and eager as if none had ever failed. I 
dreaded to part with him and leave him in that wild 
country to battle with all the privations that must 
come to adventurous prospectors in their search for 
gold. All men were not fitted by nature for gold 
diggers, and this brother of mine, — hitherto a pam- 



58 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

pered and petted darling, just from college, unused 
to hardships, — what dangers menaced his footsteps. 
What trials lay in wait for him! But no pleadings 
of mine were of any avail, so I bade hiini God speed 
and we parted in Denver on the banks of Cherry 
creek. Long afterwards I heard that after he had 
suffered untold privations and dangers, at last by 
weary stages of slow travel, sometimes on foot, he 
reached home, a sadder, poorer, but a wiser man. 

I have mentioned our great disappointment in 
the village of Denver and its environment as we then 
found it in the summer of eighteen sixty. My hus- 
band said to me after bidding my brother farewell, 
*'T\Tiat are we going to do? Shall we remain here, 
return homle, or push on to California?"' My pride 
would not consent to turn my face homew^ard, although 
my heart yearned to do so, and I was so utterly dis- 
gusted with Denver and its squalid surroundings; with 
the Arapahoes who had made the last two or three 
nights indescribably hideous; with the combined 
drunkenness and rioting that existed everywhere in 
this society composed of the roughest classes of all 
states and nations; with this log city of maybe two 
hundred 1d^^'ellings, not half of them completed, and 
the other half not fit to be inhabited by any self- 
respecting w^oman, that I felt life amid such surround- 
ings would be to me unendurable. Without argument 
or hesitation, I said, "We will go on to California."^ 

By this time Ave had come nearly to the bottom 
of our very lini!ited purse. We had our wagon loaded 
with plenty of provisions, enough and more to last 
us for a continued journey to California. Yet wo 
could not think of going farther without ready money 
to pay for the numerous ferries and other incidentals 
that were likely to occur on the road. So here we had 
to consider ways and means to replenish our scanty 
hoard, and to see what we could spare from our 



A SAI.E OF GLASSWARE 59 

scanty belongings that could be disposed of to the 
best advantage. The weather was growing colder as 
we advanced further into the mountains. Hitherto 
we had traveled without a tent. We now found that 
we could no longer dispense with that comfort, and 
we must provide a camp stove for use in rainy 
weather. Among our stores we had packed two cases 
of thin, /cutglass goblets and wine glasses, which 
were cumbersome and heavy, so we decided to lighten 
our load of them and strengthen our purse. James 
approached one of the best saloons that infested the 
town and told the proprietor of his wish to dispose 
of theml to the best advantage. As freight of all kinds 
had to bo brought overland, articles of that variety 
were in great demand and expensive as well. The 
saloon man at once offered him a very satisfactory 
price for all the glassware, enough to warrant us to 
make the necessary purchases for the comfort of our 
extended journe}^, and money sufficient to last, as 
we hoped, until we arrived at our destination in Cal- 
ifornia. 

After re-packing and re-adjusting our load, we 
two alone with our little son took up the lonely march 
through seemingly endless mountain chains, and over 
desert lands for more hundreds of weary miles 
toward the land of the setting sun. Our road led over 
what was then known as the "Cherokee Trail" which 
we had learned formed the shortest practical route 
from Denver to Salt Lake City. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

TOWARD LARAMIE. — FORDING A DANGEROUS STREAM. — 
CELEBRATING THE FOURTH OP JULY. — ENTERTAIN- 
ING STRANGERS. — ^/VN INDIAN VILLAGE ON THE MOVE. 

We camped the first night out from Denver beside 
a small rippling stream, whose waters as they flowed 
over the pebbly bottom fell soothingly on the ear, 
while from its deeper pools I caught the most delicious 
fish I ever ate. The night was cool and breezy, but 
within our now comfortable tent, we set up our little 
camp stove and built our fire. We soon crawled in 
under our blankets, said our prayers to the stars that 
brightly twinkled through tlie trees overhead, and 
thought of home and the comfortable beds we had left 
so far behind us. 

For several days we pushed on through a reas- 
onably level country, though we encountered many 
deep, steep-banked, dry gullies, and some vei-y rough 
roads, until we arrived at last at the banks of the 
Cache-la-Poudre river, seventy or eighty miles from 
Denver and by far the most formidable stream we had 
met. We had been told that a rope ferry was stationed 
here that would enable us to cross this stream with 
safety. Unluckily on our arrival we found that it had 
gone down the stream] and nothing had since been 
heard of it. An old scout, whom we met here, assured 
us that there was no safe crossing for our team, as 
the current was very swift. If we were venturesome 
enough to try to ford it our wagon and cattle would 
be carried down stream. Here was a dilemma. We 

60 



F'ORDING A DANGEKOUS STREAM 61 

dared to go no further without assistance, though 
anxious to pursue our journey with some degree of 
haste, prudence warned us that to cross an unknown 
stream alone was taking too many risks. .We 
decided to wait and see what would turn up. A mer- 
ciful providence had helped us before through many 
an obstacle. Why not trust once more? Here we 
prepared to camp for an indefinite period, as there 
were few people, if any, comdng or going over this 
desolate road. 

At the close of the second day of our waiting 
there appeared, mounted on powerful horses, a white 
man and two Indians, trappers, coming from their 
isolated cabin in the heart of the Rocky mountains. 
They staid with us an hour or more, sharing our 
evening meal. We begged their assistance in our per- 
plexity, and they promised us if we would' await their 
return the next day they would help us ford the uncer- 
tain stream. Of course we waited for them, for we 
could not help ourselves, though we feared that they 
might not return for our relief. However our break- 
fast was scarcely over the next morning when our 
eyes were gladdened by the sight of them returning 
with their horses loaded with pelts. These they hast- 
ily unloaded, and mounting their horses, they plunged 
into the stream, swimmdng them up and down until 
they found a reasonably safe crossing and a secure 
landing place, where our team with their help could 
reach the opposite shore with safety. Then tying a 
rope to the heads of our two lead oxen, a man ^ on 
each side on their strong horses, we went boldly down 
into the deep and turbid stream. Anxiously we 
watched each move of the fearless horsemen as they 
measured the depths of the foaming stream. The 
current was strong and swift, and should accident 
happen, fatal disaster seemed almost certain. Commit- 
ting our all into the hands of our Heavenly Father, 



62 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

we rode down into what mioht liave been the chasm 
of death, where the. rapid current, yawning: to receive 
us in its cold depths, seemed ready to bury us from 
si^ht. Owing to the steepness of the bank we came 
near upsetting the wagon as we entered the stream, 
but the second Indian rode by the wagon side and 
dexterously rii^hted it. The water was deep for 
about fifty yards or more, the bottom broken and 
filled Avith huge boulders, and the current swift and 
strong. I crouched in the wagon with my little son 
trembling with fear, while my husband, riding the 
ox nearest the wheel, urged his swimming cattle on. 
Luckily our wagon bed was not afloat, although the 
water came Uf) into it. When the brave oxen pulled us 
up the steep banks safe once more, I uttered a prayer 
of thanksgiving and gladly helped unload and dry 
out some of our goods that had got wet in the crossing. 
With many and heartfelt thanks to the obliging trio, 
who refused any other remuneration, we bade adieu 
to them, as they again mounted their horses, re-crossed 
the stream and went on their way. Another day's 
delay waiting for our goods and wagon to dry out, 
and we resumed our interrupted journey. 

The Cherokee trail, over which we were traveling, 
soon ran into the mountains near the Cache-la-Poudre, 
and henceforth for many weary miles we did not come 
across, neither were we overtaken by any emigrant or 
others moving westward. TVTiile in camp near this 
river I could not help but wonder at the beauty of 
the grand scenery surrounding us on all sides. Above 
us was the bright dome lof a heaven so free from 
all earthly smoke and vapor, so clear and trans- 
parent, that the stars seemed closer and shone 
with an exceeding brilliancy. The air was filled with 
a balmy sweetness, and yet so limpid and clear that 
even in the starlight we could catch faint glimpses 
of the shimmerins: trees in the distant river. Our 



CELEBRATING THE FOURTH OF JULY 63 

camp fire leaped up and roared in great flames, as if 
it, too, tasted the unlimited oxygen in the atmosphere. 
Beyond its bright light, purple, black and gray bluffs 
towered up in the clear, dark sky. The silence was 
profound, broken only now and then by a yelp from 
a coyote as he sneaked warily beyond the ^leam of 
our fire. The river flowed at our feet, huiTying on its 
Avay over rocks and boulders and bars of sandy 
debris, carrying its message of melody from Rocky 
mountain snows to the Gulf and broad Atlantic. 
When at last our tired eye-lids were closed, we slept 
as profoundly as if we were in our own bed-chamber. 

On this part of our journey we encountered many 
bad roads. In fact they were only trails, crossing 
high and rugged hills, deep ravines with rough and 
jagged sides, dark and dismal canyons between tow- 
ering mountains. Many times we forced our way 
over the rocks that had fallen during the heavy rains 
from their steep slopes, and had to cross streams 
filled with boulders and choked with brush and fallen 
timber. Frequently we chained and double-locked 
our wagon wheels to prevent them crashing down 
some long and steep incline, and often a fallen tree 
lay across our path that had to be hewn and lifted 
by main strength. For days our progress would not 
average eight or ten miles. At times we .came to a 
mountain up whose rugged slope it was almost impos- 
sible for our straining animals to pull the Avagon. 
My husband would be at the oxen's heads urging and 
encouraging them in the fearful pull, while I followed 
closely behind the wagon carrying a big stone with 
which to block the wheels when the cattle stopped to 
blow and rest. 

While traveling through the mountains between 
Denver and Laramie we had determined on keeping 
the Fourth of July as a grand holiday. I had taught my 
little son all the patriotic songs that I knew, brought 



64 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

forth from my goods and chattels our American flag 
and decorated our wagon and tent with the red, white 
and blue, regretting our lack of firecrackers or fire- 
works. Prom our limited larder I made preparations 
for a holiday dinner. We had camped the night before 
the Fourth in a little fertile valley, surrounded on all 
sides by high mountains. Many of the higher peaks 
were covered with snow, but down in this little valley 
the air was balmy and mild as a Fourth of July day 
should be. Here we picked our first wild strawberries, 
a luxury indeed to our appetites cloyed to satiety 
with salt bacon and beans. Our bill of fare was. con- 
structed on very simple lines yet I do not think it 
would have been unacceptable even to a pampered 
epicure. A day or two previous we had bartered 
with an Indian a pound of sugar for a leg of antelope. 
For our first course we had antelope soup, then roast 
antelope, and a piece of boiled ham with a curry of 
rice and our last can of tomatoes. I also made some 
very palatable cookies, even without the eggs which 
were considered so very necessary in their make up. 
Stewed dried fruit and the fresh strawberries formed 
our dessert, and with an excellent cup of coffee com- 
pleted a meal that anyone might enjoy, notwithstand- 
ing that the cups and dishes were of tin, and our table 
a. board over an humble and empty soap box. 

We had hardly finished this bountiful repast 
when up the narrow defile that led into this little 
valley, we saw approaching us two white men on 
horseback, leading two horses. They informed us 
that they were prospectors on their way back to Den- 
ver, all they possessed being the few provisions and 
blankets that were packed on their extra horses. They 
requested our hosi>itality for the night, which we 
gladly gave them. It was often our good fortune to 
mjeet with a trapper or scout or some wandering 
prospector from whom we could get some useful 



ENTERTAINING STRANGERS 65 

information. I was glad I had such a good dinner for 
them. When they had finished eating there was not 
enough left to feed the birds. They very feelingly 
remarked that it was the best meal they had eaten 
since they had left their homes in the far East. We 
knew not whether they were friends or foes, but 
treated them as royally as we could. Next morning 
they started over their lonely road for Denver. 

The next night brought a change of spirit for our 
camp was pitched near a little village of Indians 
whom we had been warned were very hostile to emi- 
grants, and we were truly at their mercy for they 
were a warlike band. While I was preparing our 
evening meal the chief and a number of his braves 
came and sat down in a semi-circle around our camp 
fire and asked in their broken way and by signs for 
coffee, sugar, and. "bishkit." I gave what I could 
from the quantity already cooked, and James gave 
them some tobacco to smoke. After sitting and smok- 
ing in silence one got up and went away followed at 
intervals by another, until finally we were left alone. 
How anxiously we spent that night none can ever 
know who have never been exposed to the dangers of 
savage life. Our fears proved groundless and the next 
morning we passed through their camp. They were 
making preparations to break up their own encamp- 
ment. Having a large band of .ponies they were 
compelled to m'ove farther on for newer and more 
abundant pasturage. 

This was our first sight of a moving Indian vil- 
lage and a more novel, curious, animated scene I never 
witnessed. I was quite indignant while I watched the 
indifferent braves lounging carelessly around, un- 
mindful of the labor of their poor, overworked 
squaws — the former too proud and disdainful to assist 
thesquaws in their burden of taking down their lodges, 
dismantling their camp, and loading their various 



66 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

trappings upon their primitive means of transporta- 
tion, drawn by ponies and dogs. A number of lodge 
poles were fastened to the sides of the ponies, the 
ends of which trailed on the ground and on these 
poles, behind the animal, was fastened a light frame 
work interlaced with slips of rawhide, which formed 
a sort of platform. OA'er this strong trellis of rawhide 
and frame work were spread buffalo robes, the para- 
phernalia of their camp, and their most treasured 
clothing. On top of all were stowed their papooses 
and young puppies. The whole, camp with the excep- 
tion of the stolid and lazy braves A\'as in motion. 
Squaws, dogs, and ponies were all on the alert and 
moving, ready to leave the old camp for the new. 
The women trudged patientlj' along by the litter that 
carried their offspring. These youngsters, strapped 
to their straight boards with their uncovered eyes 
blinking in the sun, looked anything but comfortable, 
yet I do not remember of ever hearing an Indian baby 
cry or murmur. Occasionally a squaw, becoming 
weary with her long walk after her arduous labor of 
loading up the animals, would mount the litter to 
rest or nurse her papoose. This method of riding was 
said to be very comfortable as the elasticity of the 
supporting poles made the motion easy. A number 
of these litters were prepared for the aged and infirm 
braves and others who had been crippled in their 
numerous combats, and this was their only mode of 
locomotion. They had to be assisted on and off by 
their ever faithful squaws, who drove the animals as 
well. The numerous dogs that infested all Indian 
encamipments were made to do duty on these occa- 
sions, and a similar equipment to that of the horses, 
bat on a smaller scale, was attached to them, on 
which were loaded the lighter articles of the camp. 

We followed on in the wake of these moving abor- 
igines until our noon halt, while they continued on 



AN INDIAN VILLAGE ON THE MOVE 67 

their. way to their further abiding place. The chief 
remained behind with us, waiting, no doubt, for an 
invitation to our mid-day meal, to which we felt com- 
pelled to invite him, very much to his satisfaction. 
After filling his capacious stomach to repletion and 
eating as much as three men would take at a meal, he 
arose and tried to express his gratification by rubbing 
his stomach with great gusto. It was characteristic 
of the Indians, whenever an opportunity offered, to 
lay in a supply of food against any future fasts. 
Evidently our hospitality and courteous treatment 
won their hearts, for they showed no signs of hostility 
to us. In fact froml their general demeanor they rather 
inspired us with a confidence which seemed to sanc- 
tion our presence in their midst. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. — CHEYENNE PASS. — LOST 
CATTLE RESTORED. — CROSSING THE CHUGWATER. — 
SHOEING LAME OXEN. — ARRIVING AT FORT LARAMIE. 

I CANNOT now remember how many times we 
crossed that wonderful river, the North Platte and 
its tributaries. It seemed to roam hither and thither 
at its own sweet will. It appeared quite a torrent as 
it rushed out of some deep canyon, clear as crystal 
and cold as ice, and again it was a wide stream filled 
with small islands, and except at the melting of the 
snows in the spring, one could almost wade across it. 
The Indian name for this river was "Weeping Water," 
but tradition said that the name had been changed to 
Platte for a woman missionary who was very much 
beloved by a tribe of Pawnee Indians. During high 
water the crossing of this river was very dangerous, 
owing to the quicksands and the continual changing 
of the channel. Usually in the vicinity of the fords 
men were stationed whose business it was to seeiemii- 
grants and their cattle safely over, often at a tax of 
eight or ten dollars a wagon. Occasionally we would 
arrive at the banks of the stream and find the ferry- 
man away from his post, and much against our will 
were compelled to wait his return. We made the 
welkin ring with our shouts and halloas to bring back 
the missing guide. 

At one of these crossings of the Platte the ferry- 
man advised us to take the trail leading more to the 



LOST CATTLE RESTORED 69 

north than west, in order to more quickly reach the 
opening of Cheyenne Pass, thereby saving us several 
days' hard driving over a mountainous country. We 
arose at the dawning of day and with an early start, 
hoped to reach the entrance of the Pass by nightfall, 
but the drive proved as usual to be longer than we 
expected, and the miles lengthened out until we found 
ourselves at night in a barren, inhospitable spot, where 
the feed was not abundant. James here tied two yoke 
of our oxen together in pairs and let them roam in 
order to get sufficient sustenance on the scanty feed- 
ing groind. The remaining , two oxen he had picketed 
with long ropes, thinking that the loose cattle would 
not wander far away from them. Imagine our dismay 
when we woke the next morning to find no sign of the 
other stock. This was not an agreeable, prospect, as 
we could not hope to recover or replace our faithful 
animals. What were we to do? I was afraid to be 
left alone while my husband went in search of them, 
and I greatly feared for his safety in the uncertain 
chase. I w^atched him leave me with feelings of doubt 
and ang-uish, but we both knew there was no alterna- 
tive as we could go no farther with only the one 
remaining yoke. So mounting the horse, he ascended 
the range of mountains beyond us, and there to his 
wonder, saw an Indian driving the loose stock 
towards our camp. James halted until the Indian 
reached him, not knowing what was awaiting him, but 
the Indian ion his near approach, by making signs and 
pointing backwards, implied that he had found the 
wandering cattle in the range beyond. James turned 
at once and came back to camp, the Indian following 
with the cattle. On reaching our camp = the Indian, 
catching up the rope with which he had tied our cat- 
tle together, placed it in my husband's hands. We 
were overjoyed and surprised at the manner of their 
restoration and wondered greatly that the Indian, 



70 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

who had us completely in his power, had returned 
them in that way. 

It truly seemed to us in our long journey trav- 
eling alone that the Indians watched over us. Perhaps 
our utter loneliness and unprotected position, showing 
them that we had the most implicit confidence in themj 
awoke in their breasts a feeling of chivalrous protec- 
tion. Our confidence and resolution in the face of 
overpowering numbers may have won their regard. 
Be that as it may, in our ignorant fearlessness we 
came through the many hostile tribes unmolested and 
unhurt, while we heard details of various raids against 
emigrants who had preceded us. I was led to believe 
that the tribes with whom we came in contact had 
some secret sign whereby they communicated with one 
another, for we frequently noticed the smoke of fires on 
different heights as we traveled or stopped at our 
numerous camps. Sometimes the smoke would ascend 
straight up into the air in columns, at other times it 
would be diffused and* wavering. By degrees learn- 
ing then and long after that this was their method of 
communicating with each other at a distance, we at 
last came to the conclusion that in this or some other 
way the Indians had taken charge of us. With feeling 
of gratitude at the kindly action of the Indian, who 
had brought our wandering stock back to us, I pre- 
pared a bountiful breakfast, for I had learned that 
the way to a red man's heart lay in the same direction 
as that of his more civilized brother, and I have never 
found an appeal to the stomach in vain. I even made 
extra eff'orts to whet his ever-ready appetite. I made 
my lightest flap-jacks, browned them; with the lovely 
hue that made them most inviting, sprinkled them 
with sugar so tempting to the Indians, and poured 
cup after cup of my aromatic coffee, which evidently 
from the number he drank, fully satisfied his critical 
tastes, while slice after slice of bacon and beans with- 



LOST CATTLE RESTORED 71 

out Stint went into his capacious stomach. 1 wondered 
if he had eaten anything for a month, so marvelous 
was the quantity that disappeared. He stayed with 
us until we left camp and started out on our day's 
travel. I gave him a loaf of the warm bread I had 
baked and a piece of bacon to take with him. He fol- 
lowed us for a while, then took his departure down 
the canyon and was lost to view. 

As we proceeded northward toward the main 
line of overland travel, our route lay over a^ badly 
gullied region, and we crossed many streams emerg- 
ing from the mountains. By one of these our trail 
ran for more than forty miles, and in its tortuous 
windings we crossed it many times. The Red Buttes 
were conspicuous all along this river. The earth which 
gave them their peculiar color was said to be rich 
in iron. On the lower bottoms of this stream the grass 
was luxuriant, but the mosquitoes and gnats swarmed 
in such numbers that our stock could neither feed nor 
rest, while the annoyance to ourselves was more 
than tantalizing. Finding it impossible to sleep in this 
camp, we arose early and drove eight or ten miles 
before we could leave the persecuting horde of insects* 
behind us. We drove until w^e came to a most excel- 
lent spring of clear, cold water, unimpregnated with 
any* trace of alkali, and the best water we had drunk 
since leaving Clear creek west of Denver. Most 
of the many streams we had crossed were muddy and 
tasted more or less of the ever present alkali. 

Finding it necessary to repair our wagon we 
stayed at this spring for two or three days. It was a 
most picturesque spot, lying between rows of mag- 
nificent buttes looking in the distance, like ruined 
castles, som!e of them perpendicular and circular in 
form. They presented a variegated and fantastic 
appearance when viewed from a distance. In spots they 
were brilliant vermillion, but when broken by the 



72 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

water courses passing over them, they presented 
uneven surfaces of white clay, which gave them their 
peculiar appearance. After leaving these larger 
buttes, our road gradually descended until we reached 
the banks of a ravine, where we had great difficulty 
in getting down to the bed of the stream. Unyoking 
the forward oxen, leaving only the Avheel oxen attached 
to the wagon, we chained and locked our wagon 
wheels, but even with all these precautions we came to 
grief, for the heavy wagon rushing down the steep 
incline, caused the oxen to swerve in such a manner 
that the wheels cramped and the wagon was thrown 
against a mound of earth and loose rock that partly 
held it from a complete upset. Here we were in a 
deep ravine with no help near. We could neither 
get out nor /go on. Not a spot of ground was level 
enough to stand upon in any comfort. The wagon 
had to be unloaded before it could be righted, and as 
the noon hour had passed there was a prospect of 
spending the night in this gloomy cavern. There was 
no other alternative but for both of us to go to worli 
and unload as soon as possible. Even unloaded the 
wagon was too much for one man to lift. James rigged 
up a sort of lever and with the help of the oxen, 
managed to right it again and pull the half empty 
wagon to a place less steep< and more secure farther 
down the slope. By the time we had carried our goods 
down the hill to the wagon and reloaded it, it was near 
sundown. Hitching on all the oxen, we drove down 
into the narrow and deep stream. The opposite side 
was fully as steep and it required the combined 
strength of our cattle to pull us up the bank. This 
streami was called tlie Chugwater, where we spent the 
night, expecting in a few days to arrive at Laramie. 
Before reaching Laramie we drove one night into 
a little park at the base of a mountain. It was almost 
a semi-circle, rimmed with dark and forbidding 



CROSSING THE CHUGWATER 73 

mountains. A small stream winds its way 
along its timbered banks. There seemed to be a 
strange witchery in this place. The wind moaned and 
wailed most sadly. All through the night we imagined 
we heard strange sighs above and around us. We 
could hear stealthy trampings which seemed to come 
from other beasts than those that drew us on our 
journey. While we were stopping in Laramie, a 
soldier told us that this peculiar spot was called the 
"Haunted Hole of the Black Elk." Perhaps if \m 
had knoAvn that this little park had such an 
uncanny reputation, we might have pushed farther 
on for our night's rest. However nothing harmed us, 
and only the huge mountains that surrounded us so 
closely overpoAvered us with their immensity. 

T'he next morning, long before the sun's rays 
could penetrate this little dell, we were prepared to 
push onward, but not with great speed, for we were 
to climb another mountain up whose steep ascent 
we were to lift ourselves over two thousand feet. In 
one place we wound around tall, ragged cliffs. 
The soil was loose and unstable, composed of pulver- 
ized debris and shaly rock, which kept constantly 
slipping, so that the oxen had great difficulty in keep- 
ing their footing. It had been a steep and tiresome 
climtb. For a time we had been riding in the wagon 
but the way seemed so rough and dangerous, that to 
assure our safety, we alighted, and very fortunately, 
for in less than twenty yards further, the rear wheels 
of the wagon began to slip over the shelving embank- 
ment, and it was with alm^ost miraculous effort that 
our brave cattle pulled the wagon beyond the danger 
point. Every moment I expected to see it topple over 
the precipice, pulling our valiant oxen with it. James 
plied his. ox goad more furiously than our cattle had 
ever felt before, but it was the time for greater effort, 
and after the danger was past he almost wept over 



74 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

the cruel blows he gave our gallant team. Weary 
from the excitement of this clay, probably more than 
the fatigue, we went into camp, I made great effort 
to be cheerful and happy and tried to laugh away 
the remembrance of the peril through which we had 
passed, but all through the night in my fitful slumbers 
I had visions of the towering cliff, and in my broken 
dreams felt the< motion of the treacherous soil giving 
way over the sloping walls of the precipice. 

While traversing this slope of the Rocky moun- 
tains we cliinbed numberless ridges and penetrated 
many passes, descending one lofty plateau only to 
encounter another. One morning we struck an 
almost level plain which appeared several miles in 
extent. There was only a dim trail to follow, growing 
fainter as we proceeded, until we finally lost it 
altogether. The grass on this plain, though • coarse, 
grew thick and close. The way had been little traveled 
that season and the heavy growth had obliterated all 
signs of the trail. We wandered over this plateau for 
hours, trying to keep our northerly course, 
growing more fearful every moment that we were lost. 
At last we discovered afar off a fringe of trees, denote 
ing a stream. On reaching it we drove up and down its 
timbered banks, when to our great relief we again 
struck our lost trail at the ford. We named this 
stream, " Lost Trail creek," but it should have been 
"Box Elder," so thickly were its borders covered with 
a growth of those trees. 

Crossing this stream we again ascended a high, 
rocky, barren plain, and for two or three days the 
trail led us over a most peculiar formation, composed 
of large pebbles, averaging the size of a goose egg. Our 
cattle became foot-sore traveling this rough roadway. 
Their hoofs were worn almost to the quick. They 
could no longer travel with any degree of haste, and 
it was truly pitiful to watch their limping efforts. 



ARRIVING AT FORT LARAMIE 75 

We decided, to stop at the first water we came to and 
give them a chance to rest. It was almost dark that 
night before we came to a little spring near the road- 
side, and as soon as the poor brutes were unyoked, 
they immediately lay down in their tracks, and for 
several hours neither ate nor drank, so weary and 
footsore were they. 

Next morning on looking down from our lofty 
camp into the small valley below us, we discovered a 
tiny cabin and a wreath of smoke issuing from its wide 
chimney. This cabin, though rough and primitive, 
denoted the presence of the white man. Our curiosity 
soon grew beyond bounds and the next day we yoked 
up our lame team and drove down to investigate.- We 
found two grizzled, old mountaineers located in 
this fertile valley. They had a small herd of cattle 
with which they supplied the nearest forts with 
beef. They informed us that they had lived 
in this lonely place for four or five years, seeing 
no one for months at a time, except the few^ emigrants 
who passed during the summer season, or when driving 
their stock to the forts. They had built a rude forge, 
where they shod their own horses and those of passing 
emigrants. From them we learned that we could have 
our lame cattle shod with heavy leather shoes. This 
detained us however for two or three days as each ox 
had to be tied and throwTi during the shoeing process. 
But it enabled them to travel in comfort for many 
miles before it had to be repeated. 

Perhaps I have tediously described this cross 
miarch from Denver, before we reached the high road 
that led to California. This part of our journey was 
the only portion not traversed by mail, stage or pony 
express. It lay through a region in which there were 
few white settlers but the providence which had been 
with us from the beginning, safely guided us through 
all the perils that might have beset our path. After 



76 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

many days we arrived at Fort Laramie from where 
we were to follow the regular overland road to Cali- 
fornia. We forded the swollen Laramie river in the 
early twilight and camped on its farther shore, feeling 
thankful that the loneliness which had hitherto 
oppressed us over the Cherokee trail and through 
Cheyenne Pass was removed. Though young and 
inexperienced, I had learned to adapt myself to the 
rough life of an emigrant, — crossing swollen streams, 
encountering terrific storms and dreading constantly 
an attack from hostile Indians. But an American 
women well born and bred is endowed with the cour- 
age of her bra\e pioneer ancestors, and no matter what 
the environment she can adapt herself to all situations, 
even to the perilous trip across the western half of this 
great continent, ever ready to wander over paths which 
w^omen reared in other countries would fear to fol- 
low. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE OVERLAND ROAD. — JOINING COMPANY WITH A BAND 
OF EMIGRANTS. A THREATENED ATTACK OF IN- 
DIANS. — A NIGHT OF STORM AND SUSPENSE. — DE- 
SERTING THE COMPANY OF EMIGRANTS. — INDEPEND- 
ENCE ROCK. — MORMON EMIGRANTS. — MEETING FEL- 
LOW TRAVELERS WHO PASSED ON TO DESTRUCTION. — 
MONEY GIVING OUT. — PHILIP. 

While we were camping near Fort Laramie, the 
soldiers warned us of danger. A detachment had been 
sent out from the fort on a reconnoitering expedition 
and reported an attack of Indians on an emigrant 
comipany of eight men, whom they had killed or taken 
prisoners, burnt their wagons and taken their mules 
and horses. These soldiers also informed us of the 
approach of a train of emigrants of about sixty 
men with a large number of horses and wagons. The 
officer at the fort insisted on our remaining in its 
vicinity until the arrival of that company, as we were 
running recklessly into danger traveling alone. De- 
ciding that it would perhaps be wiser to heed his 
counsel, we waited and in due time the large caravan 
made its appearance and we joined their company. 

This proved to be the most unhappy part of our 
journey. Hitherto we had proceeded at our own sweet 
will. Accustomed to traveling alone, we stopped when 
and where we pleased, and started out in the same 
manner. Now all was changed. It was the custom 
for every large company of emigrants to select from 

77 



78 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

their number a captain. His word was law. Every 
one belonging to that company was supposed to do 
and act as he ordered. We were obliged to keep our 
place in the moving caravan, travel as long and as 
fast as he thought best, and camp when and where he 
chose. Previous to this time we had made shorter 
drives and stopped- before dark. With this company, 
we frequently drove until after nightfall. This was 
to me an unaccustomed hardship. Cooking in camp 
by daylight, was no easy task, and darkness made it 
still more difficult. Our camp fires were often of 
sage brush which emitted only evanescent flames. 
Our lanterns dimly lighted with one small candle 
made only a glimmer in the darkness of the wilderness. 
My husband, too, had always been with me at night, 
but now had to take his turn as night watchman, and 
my- little son and I would be left in our tent alone, 
while he was posted as sentinel on the outskirts of our 
encampment. Never before had I suffered Avith fear 
as I did while with that company. I could not rest 
or sleep while my husband was away from me, exposed 
to all the perils of the night and the treacherous foe. 
We might have been in the same danger before, but we 
were together. 

My fears were not only of Indians. These people 
with whom we were traveling were the roughest, most 
uncouth and ignorant people that I had ever come in 
contact with. Perfectly lawless, fighting and quarrel- 
ing among themselves, using language terrible to hear, 
they were the champion swearers of the world. They 
swore at their wives, at their horses, at each other, at 
the wind that blew, at the stones in the road. The air 
was constantly filled with their curses. The women of 
the company were fitting mates for the men. The 
whole company was made up of outlaws from Texas, 
Arkansas and Southwestern Missouri. They imag- 
ined that they were so strong in numbers that they 



JOINING COMPANY WITH A BAND OF EMIGRANTS 79 

could whip anv band of Indans, and it was their 
usual custom whenever the Indians approached our 
camp or sat by our camp fires to tease and play 
various tricks upon them. I noticed on different occa- 
sions that the Indians looked on their manoeuvers with 
a resentful glare, and conversed with each lother in low 
muttered tones, and I trembled with fear for what 
they might do in retaliation. Many times I tried to 
expostulate with these mien, but they laughed with 
scorn, saying they were not afraid of any band of 
Indians. 

Ver}' soon their bravado was put to the test. 
At the close of one day's long travel we had barely set 
our camp for the night, when a lone, frightened pony 
express rider came galloping in haste into our camp, 
shouting to us that the Indians were near and would 
very soon attack us. While he w^as descending into a 
little canyon they had suddenly come upon him from 
their ambush, pursued and shot at himi several times, 
and onl}^ that his horse was fresh and faster had he 
been able to escape them. Every minute we were 
expecting to hear the blood-curdling yells of the 
approaching foe. For the first few moments after the 
report reached us, the men who had hitherto boasted 
of their fearlessness were palsied with fright ; however 
they soon rallied and made hasty preparations to 
meet and repel the attack. It was a night long to be 
remembered. Here indeed was a grave and perilous 
situation — overloaded wagons, tired horses and oxen, 
defenseless w«men and children. For what power 
was there in the hands of a few^ white men against a 
horde of Indians, bent on murder and robbery, and 
coming so suddenly on our far-away camp in the wnl- 
derness, most of whose numbers were defenseless 
Tvomen and children? 

Our wag(ms had been arranged in the usual semi- 
circle enclosing the camp. Our animals were brought 



80 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

within and picketed as closely as possible. The men 
hurriedly put their guns in order. The women held 
their children closely to their breasts not knowing how 
soon they would be ruthlessly torn from them and 
dashed to death or put to torture before their eyes. 
After hours of suspense we began to hope that our 
fears were groundless, but this hope was soon dashed 
froml our minds by the startling cry from another 
messenger, that an attack from the opposite side was 
momentarily expected. Every ear was listening for 
the sound of the fleet feet of their ponies, every heart 
throbbing with anxious fear, but every lip was silent. 
At this hour a fearful storm of rain and hail with 
continued thunder and lightning fell upon us. The 
sharp hail and the continued peals of thunder so 
frightened our restless stock that there was imminent 
danger of a stampede. The pelting rain flowed into 
our frail tents, wetting our pillows and blankets. At 
any other time this would have been considered a 
great misfortune. Now we hardly noticed it, while we 
sat through that terrible night, drenched to the skin, 
beaten upon by the gusts of wind and hail, deafened 
by the continuous peals of thunder, every moment 
expecting the attack of the lurking foe. The darkness 
was so complete that we might have been surrounded 
by hundreds of the demons and yet been none the 
W'iser,iand the uproar of the storm was so loud that 
hearing was as useless as sight. No one slept save the 
little children. The night which seemed interminably 
long at last passed away and morning showed no 
enemy in sight. ]\Iy husband and I uttered a fervent 
prayer of thanksgiving. No doubt the fearful storm 
had caused the attack to be abandoned. 

In the course of a few hours we ventured on our 
way, hoping that we Avere not to be molested, (^ur 
number of nearly sixty mien marched with loaded 
rifles each side of the wagons to guard the women 
and children who were huddled closely within. The 



A THREATENED ATTACK OF INDIANS 81 

day was lonj? and anxious and nightfall brought us 
little relief, for our next halt was among the charred 
rennains of an express station which had been burnt 
by the savage foe. Half our men stood guard, while 
the others slept with their ready guns at hand. 

The now frightened emigrants with whom we 
were traveling were more civil and subdued in their 
manner. This lasted for a few days, but as the fear 
of an immediate attack from the Indians wore away 
they resumed their usual tactics. They quarreled 
among themselves and were brutal and domineering 
to their wives, never caring for their comfort or well- 
being. The captain of the company was a tyrannical, 
ignorant man, who ruled with an iron hand. His 
every effort was to impress all that he was paramount 
and every one must obey. It was he that regulated 
the length of the day's travel, selected the camp, 
formed the corral at night, appointed the guards and 
arbitrated all disputes. My hot Southern blood soon 
rebelled at his imperious and despotic rule. Every 
day about an hour before camping time he rode 
with two or three of his henchmen ,a mile or two 
ahead of the wagon train and selected our camping 
place for the night. His selections were frequently 
very unwise and uncomfortable. Sometimes his 
choice was a side hill, and our beds would slope too 
much for comfort, or a rocky spot by the road when 
a few rods either side would be smoother or less 
rugged. But whatever the discomforts, where he 
decided there we camped. 

One night I felt it necessary to assert myself 
and renounce his petty authority. We had driven 
many miles that day over a long rough road and all 
were tired and hungry. When we came to the place 
where we were to pitch our tents, we found that it 
had been occupied the night before by emigrants who 
had preceded us from all appearances with a great 



82 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

number of stock. Within t^^enty rods of the place 
selected was a clear, grassy spot ■ and just as 
near the water. A number of the women, although 
grumbling at the filth, prepared to make their lowly 
beds, while the men hurriedly raised the tents. My 
husband drove his team into the wagon stockade as 
usual. I said to him in an undertone, "You need not 
unhitch your oxen in this place. I will not camip 
here." He replied "If we do not obey the rules of 
the company we will have to leave it." "All right," I 
said, "The sooner the better it will suit me. I would 
rather trust myself to the mercy of the Indians 
than to travel another day with these ruffians 
and their ignorant captain. If you do not drive me 
to a cleaner place to camp and sleep tonight I will 
take my blankets and go alone." He knew full well 
that I meant to do as I said. So without another 
word he turned his team and drove to the place I 
selected. The other women looked on my daring 
insubordination with wondering eyes, and, envious 
of my cleanly quarters, at last plucked up courage to 
follow my example, and with much profanity the 
camp w^as moved. That night James and I held 
council together and we decided to withdraw from 
the company, feeling that w^e were safer and more 
comfortable traveling alone. 

The next morning when the order was given to 
break camp and all were busy preparing to move 
onward except ourselves, we remained quiet in camp. 
Some of the more friendly womien offered me their 
assistance, thinking I was not well. I thanked them 
kindly and assured them I was well, but felt tired and 
needed a longer rest, and that it was our intention to 
remain in camp until we were thoroughly rested. 
The men jeered at us and said by nightfall our 
scalps would hang at the belt of some wild Indian. 
We paid but little heed to their remarks. Finally 
perceiving that we were indeed going to stay behind, 



INDEPENDENCE ROCK 83 

the captain gave the command and the big caravan 
drove on leaving us alone in the wilderness. We 
remained in camp two days, giving them an opportun- 
ity to get so far ahead that we might never overtake 
them or see them again. Alone in the wilderness, we 
felt more secure and far happier than when travelling 
with this uncongenial band. Afterwards we heard 
repeated rumors that they had been attacked and 
almost annihilated. 

From Laramie for some distance we encoun- 
tered no one save Indians. It was a barren and deso- 
late region. Off to our left were the Black Hills, so 
called because they were covered with a dense growth 
of pine, cedar and hemlock trees which gave them 
a dark and forbidding appearance. Farther to the 
south, at a distance of thirty miles or more arose 
Laramie Peak, towering up to a height said to be 
over six thousand feet. The milky streams in the 
neighborhood of Laramie, running through the pecu- 
liar white clay soil, formed numerous buttes and 
bluffs, and by some strange alchemy of nature the 
most singular formations would crop out here and 
there, like ruined towers, castles and battlements. 
Over the facades of the numerous cliffs, strange forms 
and faces would stand out in bold relief. 

In a few days after leaving Laramie we came to 
the Sweetwater river, near which we traveled for a 
week or ten days and owing to its tortuous course w^e 
crossed it many times before leaving it near the South 
Pass. I must not forget to mention a famous land 
mark in the valley of this river and near our road, 
Independence rock, so namted by a party of emigrants 
who made their camp there on a Fourth of July in the 
earlier emigration of 1849 and had held a grand patri- 
otic celebration. Many of their names had been 
painted on the face of the huge rock, but time and long 
exposure to the elements had nearly obliterated them. 



84 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

This rock stood out on almost a level plain and was 
entirely detached from the mountains near it. In this 
fertile valley of the Sweetwater the grass was luxur- 
iant, and our cattle regained the flesh and loss of 
strength that befell them on the rocky trails that 
lamed them so terribly. But soon again we struck 
another sixteen-mile desert and a mountain beyond, 
and after toiling up its long ascent and down into the 
little park on itS' further slope, we came upon a camp 
of weary jMormon emigrants. 

These recruits of the Mormons were mostly 
Swedes and Norwegians and were accompanied by 
several Mormons who had been sent to NorAvay and 
Sweden for them and who had induced them by allur- 
ing promises to take this long and perilous trip. There 
were young \s'omen with them with hand carts which 
they had trundled all the long distance from the Miss- 
ouri river. They were a most unprepossessing lot, 
?un burned and weather beaten and stolid. They 
were dressed in their old country costume of stout 
woolen material. They wore heavy striped yarn 
stockings that barely reached to the knee. Kerchiefs 
that had once been bright were carelessly knotted 
under their chins and formed their only head cov- 
ering but were no protection for their faces, which 
were nearly as brown as the Indians', in spite of 
their original fair complexions. The Mormbn mis- 
sionary never attempted to proselyte among the rich 
or educated, or even among those in moderate cir- 
cumstances, but always among the poorest and most 
ignorant, who had been born in utter misery and" 
who had nothing to lose. These missionaries drew 
the most glowing pictures to the ignorant of what 
their lives would be in the City of the Saints — of the 
independence and ease that awaited them, of the free- 
dom from privations, and of the marvelous profits to 
be derived from their labors. No wonder the heads 



MORMON EMIGRANTS 85 

of these poor creatures were turned by such proselyt- 
ing, and that converts to Mormonism were continu- 
ally arriving. 

For several days we traveled along in sight of 
them and camped near them at night It gave me the 
heartache to see those poor girls take up their bur- 
dens every day, load up their hand carts and push 
them over those rugged mountains, stopping at inter- 
vals to rest their weary backs and wipe the perspira- 
tion from their dripping brows. Our conversation 
with them ^^'as necessarily very limited as they spoke 
but little English, and the Mormon men who accom- 
panied the outfit rather discouraged any inti- 
macy with gentiles. After a few days we passed 
them on the road and saw them no more. 

One night somewhere between Laramie aud 
Green river we halted at the foot of a mountain over 
which we had traveled laboriously all day. Early 
in the afternoon we discovered a spring of water and 
fairly good grass for our cattle. While it was too 
soon to make a camp on that long summer day, 
yet our stock seemed weary and footsore, and we our- 
selves were willing to take the good thus provided 
and go no farther. While we were pitching our tent 
and making preparations for camp, a team of mules 
and several men came in sight. They proved to be 
French Canadians, who like ourselves were boand for 
California. On reaching our camp they told us that 
the tribe of Indians roaming over that region was 
hostile, and that we were incurring great danger by 
remaining there alone. They insisted that we join 
them and go on over the next mountain. But we 
were tired and so were our cattle. Their proposal 
meant a long heavy pull probably until midnight. We 
had encountered no troubles with the Indians so far, 
why should we fear now? We advised them to tarry 



86 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

with us. But no, they were in a mad, wild rush to push 
on and bidding us farewell, went on their way. 

Next morning after a refreshing and good night's 
rest, we were up bright and early on the road. It 
took us several hours before we reached the summit 
of the next mountain, with its remote view of the 
canyon below. After a while we discovered what in 
the distance looked like the wagon of the Canadians, 
but as we came nearer we could discover no sign of 
life or movement in their camp. No mules were 
browsing in sight and not a man visible. When we 
came within hailing distance no one greeted us. We 
found the wagon rifled of everything. The ground 
bore traces of a struggle. The mules had evidently 
been stampeded and the men taken prisoners to the 
camp of the Indians to be tortured to death. We 
traced the tracks of the mules and ponies for some 
distance in an opposite direction to the one we were 
traveling; but as we had met no Indians we con- 
cluded that discretion was the better part of valor, 
and did not extend our search, feeling only too 
thankful that a merciful providence had been with 
us. Had we taken the advice of the men I am afraid 
we should never have lived to tell the tale. 

After leaving the Sweetwater river our road 
gradually led us to the beginning of the South Pass, 
which I imagined to be a narrow, difficult, winding 
gorge between towering mountains. In this I was 
happily mistaken, and for a few days we traveled 
over a road as smooth and as hard as a well kept 
country thoroughfare. On reaching the summit of 
the South Pass one could hardly believe that we 
were crossing the backbone of the Rocky mountains. 
The gradual ascent was not lal)orious. And here we 
found the dividing line between the Atlantic and the 
Pacific, for as we traversed several miles of rolling 
land two low mounds, called Twin Buttes, marked 



MONEY GIVING OUT 87 

the point where all the little streams and rivers 
flowed toward the Pacilic. I could see but little dif- 
ference in the taste of the waters, the alkali flavor still 
predominated. In the course of a few days in our 
gradual descent we struck a springy marsh of tifteen 
or twenty acres where the ground seemed to shake 
as we went over it, and in the center of this morass 
we found the so-called Pacific springs. The water 
was cold and clear, but so obnoxious to the taste that 
I could not drink it. 

Not far from the Pacific springs we struck the 
Oregon trail where the road branched off further to 
the north, while our route led us in a more southerly 
direction. We were now out of the South Pass, and 
camped one night on the treeless banks of the little 
Sandy river. A band of Snake Indians were in our 
vicinity, and according to my usual custom I pre- 
pared for company. Strange to relate not one o£ 
them approached us. This alarmed us somewhat 
because we had been accustomed to have them drop in 
upon us on all occasions, and in this seeming indif- 
ference we feared a sinister motive. 

The fear of hostile Indians was not our only 
worry, for once again our little hoard of money was 
running low. The numerous ferries over the Platte 
and its tributaries made heavy inroads into our slen- 
der purse. On one or two occasions it had been 
replenished by sales of flour and bacon to emigrants 
who had not laid in so large a store as we, but even 
with that help we were at our last extremity for 
money. Food we had in abundance, but only coin 
would pay our way over a formidable stream that 
must be crossed by ferry and was impossible to ford. 
My husband, worried beyond measure at. our predica- 
ment, had fretted himself almost sick. I, probably 
owing to my nature of blissful ignorance, took a more 
optimistic view of the situation and urged him not 



88 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

to worry. We had been told that it would cost 
twenty dollars to cross the Green river by ferry. I 
fondly hoped that the amount had been exaggerated or 
that some way would be provided. My trust was not 
in vain, for a few days before reaching that stream we 
were overtaken by a solitary horseman who rode by 
our wagon side until our noon halt. He asked my hus- 
band if he could share our noon meal with us, and 
said he would gladly pay for it. 

He was a Frenchman by the name of Philip. We 
never knew any other name for him. After dinner 
he took ray husband aside and explained why he 
was alone in the heart of the continent. He had fallen 
out with the company with which he was traveling, 
and taking his guns and blankets, left them, depend- 
ing for food solely on the wild game he could shoot. 
He begged my husband to board him for a week or two 
until he reached his destination beyond the Green 
river. James felt some qualms about taking in a 
stranger and came to me for advice. At once I 
replied "Tell him we will take him for twenty dollars." 

I have often thought since if we had asked a 
hundred he would have just as gladly have paid it, as 
he seemed well provided Y\ith money. He proved to 
be a very kindly gentleman while with us for the few 
days before reaching his destination, and his twenty 
dollars carried us well along on our journey and 
tided us over a precarious time. For years after- 
wards when the hour looked darkest and both of us 
were discouraged I would say "Don't worry, maybe 
Philip will turn up." The name was a synonyml of 
good luck for us. 



CHAPTER XI. 

IN MORMON LAND. — THE TRADING POST. — DISCARDED 
POSSESSIONS. — THE PONY EXPRESS. — OUR INDIAN 
PROTECTOR. — AMUSING THE CHILDREN. 

In due time we arrived at Green river, which we 
had been told was a dangerous and diflftcult river to 
ford, and that to transport our stock and wagon 
over its depths would take all our little hoard of 
money. Instead we hailed it as an oasis in the desert, 
for it furnished us with clear sweet water to drink, 
and our thirsty stock reveled in it to their hearts' 
content. The Green river no longer held any terrors 
for us. The huge fiat- bottomed boat, drawn by ropes 
suspended from either side across the deep stream 
and at a price much less than we expected, safely 
landed us on the farther side of the stream that had 
been such a great bug-bear to us. Here we rested a 
few days. The river flowed through a narrow val- 
ley. The grass, though coarse, proved to be good 
feed for our cattle, and the rest put new courage and 
endurance in their weary frames. Here, too, were 
green trees on which to set our tired eyes. They 
were only ^^^^ows and cottonwoods yet we enjoyed 
a camp under their grateful shade. 

A trading post had been established at this ferry 
for the few mountaineers who owned large herds of 
cattle. Other emigrants besides ourselves were camp- 
ing here. Their broken dow^l teams forced them to 
trade their worn out oxen for fresher ones on almost 
any termjs. The mlountain stockmen did a lively 

89 



90 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

business with unfortunate emigrants, taking a woeful 
adyantage of their necessity. My sympathy was 
strongly aroused by their distress. Two or three fami- 
lies had been delayed there for two weeks waiting for 
their cattle to get strong enough to resume their 
journey. Their own provisions were getting short 
and the season growing late, they gravely feared that 
they would not get through their long journey before 
the snow fell again on the mountains. 

We became acquainted at this place with an old 
trader who in his earlier life had been a man of con- 
siderable polish and intelligence, but owing to some 
unfortunate circumstances in his youth had drifted 
thus far over the continent in the early forties. 
Homeless, penniless and an outcast, he managed in 
some way to establish himself here at the Green river, 
and by slow degrees had acquired several hundred 
head of cattle and a considerable band of horses. With 
true Mormon spirit he also annexed several squaws 
for wives, and had an}' number of half breed cliildren, 
who swarmed around the filthy quarters that he 
called home. The rude huts they occupied were in 
the most squalid surroundings. For many years this 
had been his home, yet not the slightest effort had 
been made to improve his mode of living. With all 
that fertile land surrounding him there was neither 
garden nor orchard. Fresh fruit and vegetables were 
unknown to him and his half breed family. He was 
said to be worth seventy-five or one hundred thousand 
dollars, and yet appeared to be perfectly satisfied 
with these most wretched conditions. Somewhere I 
had read that it would take only a few years for the 
white man to return to the aboriginal condition, and 
it certainly proved true in this man's case. 

Miost of the men who inhabited these trading 
posts had squaws for wives. It was quite the ordi- 
nary thing for the Indians to bring their most 



DISCARDED POSSESSIONS 91 

attractive and winsome daughters and ojffer them for 
sale to the white men. Those not quite so comely 
would bring thirty or forty dollars, while otheo-s 
more pleasing would bring sixty or seventy according 
to their charms. To my point of view they were the 
most repulsive looking creatures. I could see neither 
beauty, grace nor intelligence in their stolid-looking 
countenances. , Their manners and habits were dis- 
gusting and offensive. The women thus bought and 
sold were no truer to their masters than their more 
civilized sisters of the same caste in other countries 
and were ever ready to decamp with any soldier or 
other man who offered sufficient inducements in the 
way of beads, blankets, or other gaudy paraphernalia. 
After leaving Green river at many points we 
would come across the discarded belongings of the 
emigrants wbo preceded us. We were enabled to 
form an idea of the condition of their stock, whether 
horses or cattle, by the goods and chattels they were 
continually discarding in their endeavor to lighten 
the burden of their overworked and worn out teams. 
Once by the roadside, we came across a heavy old- 
fashioned cook stove which some emigrant had hauled 
all those weary miles of mountain and desert, only 
to discard it at last. No doubt some poor forlorn 
woman was now compelled to do her cooking by the 
primitive camp fire, perhaps much against her will. I 
could imagine the heated arguments when day after 
day that heavy stove had to be loaded and unloaded. 
No doubt the air was blue many times with the vol- 
ley of emphatic and profane words, hurled against 
that inoffensive but cumbersome article. A little 
wooden cradle nearby looked pathetic in its loneli- 
ness; and the tiny new made grave that we had 
passed a few days previous told too truly the cause 
of its desertion. It was no unusual sight to see 
wagon boxes, log chains, tires and other heavy articles 



92 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

abandoned to lighten the loads, and the most aston- 
ishing thing to me was that these things would lie 
there without attracting the notice of either Indians 
or herdsmen. They proved to have no value to these 
denizens of the wilderness. 

The hills west of Green river were thinly covered 
with straggling groves of pines and cedars. Grass 
was more abundant in the little valleys, and the 
streams of water had lost the milky look which they 
acquired from the clay wash lying near the desert 
lands. We were still in the midst of sage brush, even 
in these fertile valleys, but it was no longer universal 
and alone. The wild currant and other shrubs 
became more abundant. Occasionally we came upon a 
little patch of land cultivated by some progressive 
Mormon. It was a matter of astonishment to us that 
the herdsmen of these fertile districts, with their 
cattle roaming over a thousand hills, had never experi- 
mented with cultivating the soil. They never knew 
the taste of cabbage or tomato. A potato was con- 
sidered the greatest luxury, and was brought to the 
trading posts from miles away. As for cultivated 
fruit of any description they knew it not. We found 
in the canyons a wild and sour gooseberry which 
proved to be fairly palatable, and at intervals near 
the streams grew a wild grass whose succulent roots 
gave out the flavor of the cucumber. We had watched 
the Indians eating this grass, and testing it ourselves, 
thought it very good, but it was found rarely. I had 
grown very tired of bacon day after day. The very 
smell of beans cooking nauseates me to this day. 1 
have never overcome my antipathy to rice in any form, 
while stewed prunes are still an abomination in my 
sight. Our diet was confined mainly to these articles. 
It was imjpossible to buy fresh vegetables on our route, 
and our canned fruit and vegetables had long given 
OMt. We had grown so weary of the sameness of our 



THE PONY EXPRESS 93 

daily diet that the intense longing for something dif- 
ferent grew upon us, and we looked forward anxiously 
to Fort Bridger where we hoped in a few days to find 
fresh meat and vegetables. 

From Laramie westward we were in the line of 
the celebrated pony express, which was established 
in April, 1860, to carry important mail more rapidly 
than was possible in the overland stage. Our daily 
excitement was in watching for its fearless riders as 
they flew^ by us on their swift ponies. It was nearly 
ten years in advance of the first overland telegraph, 
which could not be maintained until there was a line 
of railroad parallel to it. The pony express was 
an attempt to carry letters by private service from 
St. Joseph, Missouri, to Sacramento, California in 
ten days. It was a daring enterprise to attempt to 
cover nearly two thousand miles of prairie, desert 
and mountain by solitary riders from! station to sta- 
tion. These stations weve at intervals of about thirty 
miles. In a year's time it proved more than human 
endurance could stand. The stations consisted of a 
rude hut for the keeper, enclosed in a higli stockade 
where the relief ponies were corraled. The certainty 
of always finding water at these stations induced ua 
to make extra efforts to camp near them at night 
fall. Once it became our sad duty to bury the par- 
tially burned and mutilated body of the man in charge 
of the station to prevent the wolves and coyotes from 
devouring his remains. The Indians had been there 
before us, killed and scalped the keeper, run off with 
the ponies, and left the stockade in flames. Alarming 
as this w^as, we were obliged to camip near the sniol- 
dering ruins. 

One morning while we lingered near one of these 
stations, a rider who looked like a mere boy came 
flying into the post, the man w^hose place he filled 
having been killed by the Indians. The pony had 



94 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

made his way to the next station alone. This youth 
had ridden hard through the darkness of the night 
trying to cover both his own ground and that of the 
man who had been shot. He quickly changed horses, 
took his package of letters, and was off again on his 
perilous way. These brief stops at the stations were 
all that broke the monotony of untold hardships and 
danger. While the riders were young, sturdy and 
robust men, one of the essential reqiiirements was 
that they must be of light weight, as the ponies were 
not expected to carry more than one hundred and 
fifty pounds. The superior endurance of those ponies 
saved many a fearless man in his race for life with 
roaming bands of Indians. 

For some time after we had separated ourselves 
from our unpleasant traveling companions we trav- 
eled without adventure of any kind, and saw 
nothing of the Indians that were supposed to be on 
the war-path. We flattered ourselves that we were 
too near Fort Bridger to have any fears. One even- 
ing, however, as we drove into a little fertile valley, 
we came in sight of an encampment of the supposed 
foe, with a large band of ponies feeding on the rich 
grass. Their rude tepees were clustered near the 
stream within a mile of the road. Uncertain of the 
reception awaiting us, we made camp as usual. In a 
little while first one Indian then another came 
around our fire, until I had an audience of several 
watching me prepare our evening meal. I was care- 
ful to bake an extra quantity of biscuit that night, 
for we were so completely at their mercy I thought 
it wise to conciliate them( in every way possible. I 
found it no easy task, as it required several skillets 
full before I had enough. James generously handed 
out his precious tobacco for them to smoke with him 
around our camp fire. 

Next morning we drove away from our camp, 



OUR INDIAJST PROTECTOR 95 

leaving a number of them who still hung around foi 
the last cup of coffee. As we waved our farewells to 
them, we noticed one of them mount his pony and 
follow us, not closely, but keeping us well in sight. 
When we stopped for our noon-day rest he soon joined 
us, and of course we invited him to partake of our 
frugal luncheon, hoping that he would return to 
band. But he continued to follow us until nightfall. 
When we prepared to camp he did likewise. Staking 
out his pony with the long rope of braided leather 
which he carried, and approaching my box of cooking 
utensils, he took from it the large knife I used in 
cooking, and pointing to some coarse grass that grew 
near the water he proceeded to cut and gather an 
armful, which he placed under our wagon and pre- 
pared his bed for the night. While alarmed and 
anxious we were powerless and made the best of our 
novel situation. I prepared a more bountiful meal 
w^hen I found we were to entertain this most unwel- 
come guest. After eating a hearty meal, which he 
seemed to enjoy, he smoked a while with my husband. 
All this time there was no word of conversation, as 
neither he nor we could communicate except by signs. 
Finally he rolled himself beneath the wagon, and we 
went to rest in our little tent, but slept fitfully with 
one eye open the balance of the night. This continued 
for three days and we concluded that he had adopte<5 
us and intended to remain with us for the balance of 
our pilgrimage. On the evening of the third day, 
after replenishing his inner man with a hearty sup- 
per, he arose, caught his pony which was feeding a 
short distance from the camp, and, pointing back- 
ward, tried to make us understand that he was going 
to return to his tribe. As soon as we divined that 
he was about to leave us, I tied up a loaf of bread, 
some bacon, a cup full of sugar, and gave it to him. 



96 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

and we saw him depart, wondering why he came and 
why he went. 

Not for several days was the mystery explained. 
Meeting an old scout at a watering place where we 
stopped one night, we related the circumstance to 
him. He told us that the country through which we 
were going at that time was filled with Indians who 
were unfriendly to emigrants, and this Indian was 
sent with us to show that we were under their special 
care and not to be molested. If that were true, it went 
to prove that there was honor among these savage 
tribes of the wilderness. Our lonely and unprotected 
situation mlist have appealed to them, and our uniform 
kindness was rewarded in many ways perhaps when 
we knew it not. At any rate we could truthfully say 
we never received any ill at their hands, and came 
through the various tribes without the loss of any- 
thing save one bright new tin tea kettle that I had 
bought in Denver. Its brightness proved too much of 
a temptation to an elderly squaw who came to visit 
us, and carefully seated herself beside it It disap- 
peared when she did under the folds of her soiled and 
tattered blanket. 

Another circumstance I think worth mentioning 
here. Once in passing a group of Indians I noticed 
that one sat wrapped in his blanket the image of des- 
pair. The expression on his countenance showed 
that he was suffering great pain. My husband spoke 
to his squaw who was standing near and said to her, 
"Brave, heap sick." She shook her head but at the 
same time opened her mouth and pointed to her teeth, 
and then to the suffering brave. James approached 
the Indian and by signs coaxed himl to open his mouth. 
He found the molar had a large cavity which was 
the cause of his suffering. I had brought with me 
several vials of toothache drops, for my little son had 
frequent attacks of toothache. Bringing forth one 



AMUSING THE CHILDREN 97 

of die bottles containing the soothing drops and a 
piece of cotton, with the aid of a sharp splinter I 
inserted some of the remedy into the aching tooth. The 
effect was magical, and I was surprised to watch the 
change that came over the sufferei*'s expressive coun- 
tenance. He raised his eyes that had been sternly 
fixed on the ground, rubbed his face slowly, then 
turned towards his squaw who was standing behind 
him watching the effect of the remedy the white squaw 
was employing, and in a. low tone communicated to her 
that the pain was relieved. Then turning to the other 
Indians who were grouped around, he spoke in a 
louder voice. In a moment we were surrounded by them 
eager to see the little vial that contained the magical 
drops. It was critically examined and passed from 
one to another, and although we could not under- 
stand a word, yet their expressions of gratitude were 
perfectly intelligible. I left the bottle and the piece 
of raw cotton with the Indian sufferer, for I well 
knew that the toothache would again return. 

Another time while waiting in camp over Sunday, 
I had been repairing some of my husband's red flannel 
shirts. One was too far worn to be of any service 
further, and I had relegated it to the rag-bag. A 
number of Indian children stood around watching me 
at my work, and my sewing utensils seemed very 
curious to them. The idea came to me to fashion 
for them a rag doll and see what the effect would be 
on these stolid children of the wilderness. With a 
portion of white cloth taken from my work-bag, and 
the remains of the discarded red shirt, I made a rag 
baby, marking the features of the doll with colored 
thread. My efforts were closely watched by the 
curious children, and when I finished the doll I 
handed it to the smallest girl. At first the child did 
not seem to realize that she was to keep it. After each 
one of the children had examined it thoroughly they 



98 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

gave it back to me. Finally I made the little one 
understand that she was to keep it, and when one of 
the larger children attempted to take it from her, she 
uttered a weird cry and started off on a swift run 
with the rag baby hugged closely to her breast. In a 
little while two or three squaws came into our camp 
with the child and doll, and by signs asked for 
another. I soon discovered I would be very busy 
if I attentpted to supply them with rag babies. But I 
made aniother for them, showing them how to do it, 
gave them the remains of the red flannel shirt and 
other pieces of cloth that I could spare, and sent them 
off rejoicing. This was my last effort, however, in try- 
ing either to instruct or amuse the Indians. Only on 
Sundays did we linger in camp long enough to have 
any extra timie on our hands, and our inability to 
make ourselves understood made the effort tiresome. 



CHAPTER XII. 

SALT LAKE CITY. — DISAPPOINTMENT AT FORT BRIDGER. — 
LETTERS FROM HOME. — AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. — 
MORMON WOMEN. 

At LAST we reached Fort Bridger, so named for 
a trader who first settled there. Later on it was used 
as an outpost and relief station for the great rush of 
Mormons to Salt Lake, and afterwards as a fort of the 
United States Government. We were told that Fort 
Bridger was the terminus of the Great American 
desert, and we fondly hoped to get a supply of fresh 
vegetables within its borders. But the few potatoes 
were held at such a price that we could not afford to 
buy them, and they proved to be the only vegetable 
we found cultivated until we reached Salt Lake City. 

As soon as we arrived at Fort Bridger James 
went immediately to buy some fresh meat and vege- 
tables, never dreaming for a mom(ent that there would 
be any diflSculty in getting them. On approaching 
the sutler of the fort he was informed that the 
government did not allow the sale of meat or other 
provisions to outside parties. No persuasion was of 
any avail. James tried to explain that his wife was 
not well and needed fresh meat sorely, but the man 
turned a deaf ear to all his entreaties. Very much 
disappointed James turned to go without it, when a 
private soldier who overheard the conversation said, 
"Stay, pilgrim, no sick woman shall go without a bite 
of fresh meat while I'm around. We can't sell any, but 
I can give her my ration and not go hungry either.'^ 

99 



100 BY OX TEAM TO CALiIFORNIA 

In this manner was the meat procured. In return for 
the kind thoughtfulness of the soldier I sent to him 
my beloved Ivanhoe. 

Most of our journey between Denver and Salt 
Lake, when not desert, was through and over the 
interminable ranges of the Rocky mountains. For 
many wear>' days we were continually ascending and 
descending. We no sooner arrived at the top of one 
rugged mountain, when as far as the. eye could reach, 
other ranges just as steep loomed up before us, and it 
seemed an endless time before we struck the long 
gradual slope or plain and arrived at the summit of 
these grand old mountains through the South Pass, 
and thence through Bridger and down Eicho canyon, 
where our shouts and songs reverberated from the 
mountain side. We followed its little stream until 
we reached that plain which we knew to be the center 
of Mormondom. Ever since we had crossed Green 
river we had been told that we were now in the 
country of the Mormons, and we had been warned, if 
we desired their good will, we should be careful in 
what manner we expressed ourselves about their 
peculiar institutions to the cattlemen or settler whom 
we might meet on the road. Especially had we been 
w^arned not to admit that we had emigrated from Mis- 
souri, as the people of that state had incurred the 
most bitter hatred of the Mormons. It was the Mis- 
sourians who had ousted them from' their first strong- 
hold in Nauvoo, Illinois, and caused them to take the 
long perilous journey to this distant land, where they 
could not only preach but practice their religion with- 
out molestation. Fearful tales had been told us of 
how whole trains emigrating from Missouri were sur- 
rounded and captured by Mormons disguised as 
Indians, the women and children kept in bondage, and 
the men put to death. 

It was at the end of a long, hot summer day. 



LETTERS FROM HOME 101 

We had been winding down through narrow ravines 
and over the abominable roads still used by all the 
heavy merchant teams that bore goods and other pro- 
visions to the City of the Saints. Emerging from the 
hills we came out on the broad plateau that overlooked 
the valley of the Great Salt Lake. The city was still 
several miles from us, and although we had two or 
three hours of daylight before us, we had to curb our 
desire to enjoy the comforts and luxuries that we had 
hoped to find within its boundaries. Not until towards 
noon of the following day did we descend, weary,dusty 
and browned with over a thousand miles of jolting, 
fording and camping, into the veritable city that so 
long had seemed a myth. To us poor emigrants it bore 
a most delightful aspect. It was regularly and hand- 
somely laid out on a level plain. Little irrigating 
canals flowed on either side of the streets, whose clear 
cold waters were led into the orchards and gardens 
surrounding every home. The houses of that time 
were generally small, one story buildings of adobe, 
and every householder had an acre of ground to culti- 
vate around his homie. The gardens diffused an air of 
freshness and coolness that all could appreciate, but 
none more than the traveler who had just crossed the 
great desert. At that day the City of Salt Lake 
boasted of only one business street on which were the 
postoffice and principal stores. 

Since leaving Denver we had had no opportunity 
to get letters, and I did not allow any time to escape 
after reaching Salt Lake City before going to the post- 
office. How eagerly I clasped the precious m»issives 
to my breast when they were in my possession. I was 
almost afraid to open them for fear that they might 
contain sorrowful news. Driving that thought from 
my mind I hastily read one after the other, and when 
I had been assured that all were well and happy as I 
had left them, then more at my leisure did I read over 



102 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

and over every word thev contained. Letters from 
home! What a comforting sound to wanderers like 
ourselves, cut off from the world and beyond the pale 
of civilized life. 

We camped for several days in the outskirts of the 
city, and enjoyed to our heart's content the green fruit 
and fresh vegetables that we were able to buy or trade 
from the Morm^on women. These women thronged 
into our camp with everything in the way of produce, 
which they were glad to exchange for any articles the 
emigrants desired to part with. At that period when 
every pound of freight had to be brought overland by 
wagons, the tariff was fabulously high, and if these 
Mormon women could acquire anything by trading 
their fruits, vegetables, butter and cheese, they were 
that much ahead. So here 1 parted with my com- 
fortable feather bed. Every Mormon who came into 
camp wanted to buy it. At first I steadily refused to 
part with it, but finally I was offered an amount which 
in our pressing need for money I thought it unwise 
to refuse. So great was the demand for feather beds 
and pillows that I might have sold it for even a larger 
sum. Through all the journey I had held on to m^ 
three flat irons, but for some time I had ceased to use 
them, as the clothing we wore required only cleanli- 
ness. These flat irons I bartered with a woman for a 
tub of fresh butter which I hoped would last us 
through to California. And I exchanged a much bat- 
tered brass handled .shovel and tongs for a pair of 
cowhide shoes for myself, which in a few days grew 
rough, red and rusty, although they lasted until the 
end of the journey. I was only too glad to trade them 
many articles, which I could dispense with in exchange 
for their fresh fruit and vegetables, butter, eggs and 
cheese of which Idaid in as liberal a supply as would 
keep for the rest of our trip. 

While we camped in the outskirts of the city, we 



AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 103 

found it necessary to buy hay for our stock. This was 
brought to us each day by a Mormon woman, the hay 
tied in a huge bundle and carried on her back and 
shoulders. This required several trips before a suf- 
ficient quantity could be brought in this manner, and 
when we expressed our surprise that a woman should 
bear such a burden, she replied morosely "Mormon 
women are only beasts of burden." A man came into 
camp one day to sell us some grain. While dickering 
with my husband over the price and quantity, he 
kept his eyes fastened on me as I stood preparing our 
dinner. Suddenly he came over and reached out his 
hand to shake hands with me. I gazed at him in 
amazement, and I suppose my countenance showed my 
surprise. He said, "You do not know me." "No," I 
replied, "I do not." 

"Well," he said, "I know you and you are the 
daughter of Robert Honeyman," calling m^^ father's 
name. He then said that he had worked for my father 
when I was a little girl, and telling me his own name 
brought to my recollection the time, place and circum- 
stances. I could not deny to him that while we were 
not Missourians yet we had emigrated from Missouri. 
I felt somewhat startled and annoyed ito meet him in 
Salt Lake City. However, I assumed a smiling face 
and said, "O, yes, I now remiember you well," and made 
him welcome to our humble camp. He informed me 
that he had embraced the Mormon faith, marrying a 
mother and two daughters, and invited us very cor- 
dially to visit him in his home. I replied that, if hia 
wives would care to see me, it would give me great 
pleasure to accept his invitation. 

In the evening he returned bringing his wives to 
call upon mje. They were plain, common-place peo- 
ple on a par with most of the women I had seen there, 
except that they were Americans, while tlie majority 
of the women were foreigners. They insisted that we 



104 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

should dine with them the next day. To gratify my 
curiosity to see how a Mormon household was con- 
ducted, I accepted their kind invitation, and we 
enjoyed their hospitality exceedingly. 

There was no reference to the difference in our 
opinions, and from all I observed each wife was 
treated alike. The mother, who was also the third 
wife, entertained us, while the daughters, who were 
the first and second wives prepared a very excellent 
dinner. They seemed perfectly contented with the 
existing order of things. But many of the Mormon 
women with whom we conversed, were dissatisfied and 
unhappy. They worked hard and looked worn and 
dejected. They performied the most menial labor, many 
of them working in the fields all day in the broiling 
sun. But I must say that I never saw a community 
wherein existed so much industry and thrift, combined 
with so much ignorance and such implicit faith in 
their fanatical leaders. 

We lingered for several days in Salt Lake City 
and cleaned house so to speak. That is we unloaded 
and rearranged our stores, repacked our depleted 
boxes, aired and cleaned our bedding, which was 
impossible when we traveled every day, brushed out 
the accumulated sand and alkali dust, repaired the 
wagon which the constant wear over the bad roads 
made necessary, and had our faithful old horse newly 
shod. We were soon to find that we had overstocked 
ourselves with fresh fruit and vegetables. We hoped 
that they might last us at least a month, but had 
not counted on the hot sun across the Utah desert, 
which so wilted and shriveled them that they were no 
longer appetizing and we threw them away. The tub 
of fresh butter, which looked so hard and firm when 
stowed away in our wagon, was soon turned by the 
hot sun of the desert into liquid oil by day, though it 
hardened a little at night. For a while we used it even 



MORMON WOMEN 105 

in its liquid state, but eventually it becamje so rancid 
that it, too, was left by the wayside. 

We had been told by fellow travelers before 
reaching Salt Lake that the Mormons never allowed 
a young woman to leave their borders, and I must con- 
fess to a feeling of trepidation as we drove out of the 
city of Salt Lake. Even when we were several miles 
beyond its borders, my fears were not wholly allayed. 
We had heard rumors of emigrants pursued and over- 
taken, after they had thought they had gotten safely 
away. The women and female children were torn 
from husbands and fathers and taken back to the city 
to be held as wives to some noted elder of the Church, 
while the husbands were tortured and killed if they 
offered the least resistance. But happily I found that 
I had been harboring unnecessary fears, and in a few 
days I had acquired my usual serenity. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE DESERTS. — INDESCRIBABLE SUNSETS. — ALKALI DUST. 
CHANCE ACQUAINTANCES. — THE WELCOME SUNDAY 
MORNING FLAP-JACK. — SALT WELL. — FISH SPRINGS. 
— WILLOW SPRINGS. — THE HUMBOLDT RIVER. — 
GRAVES ON THEy DESERT. 

Leaving Salt Lake City, our road crossed the 
River Jordan. We did not get a view of the Great 
Salt Lake as it lay some twenty miles and a good 
day's travel beyond our direct route. We left the 
green and fertile land around the near neighborhood 
of the city, and again came on a desert as barren as 
the great Sahara. Here we encountered sixty miles 
of almost pure sand. Seas of water would not have 
produced verdure on its barren soil. The drought 
was intense and there was no cultivation or industry 
of any sort. The scanty vegetation was the everlasting 
sage brush and grease wood Av^hich I am tired of men- 
tioning. The mountains and plains semed to divide 
the ground equally. The valleys were from ten to 
fifteen miles across, though in the clear air of Utah 
they seemed only half that distance. I remember 
clearly the beautiful sunsets. In this rainless climate 
the mountains in the full sunlight took on the hues 
of ruby and carnelian, and at sunset and twilight 
assumed tints of opal and amethyst. No artist, how- 
ever skillfully he might handle his brush, could do 
justice to the brilliant stretches of rare and roseate 
colorings of thc'se indescribable sunrises and sunsets. 
Rut the arid soil produced little food for our stock. 
106 



THE DESERTS 107 

Here and tliore grew the bunch grass on which 
depended the life and sustenance of our cattle. Onlj^ at 
rare intervals would we reach a stream whose banks 
afforded forage for our stock and rest and refreshment 
for weary and thirsty travelers. Springs were most 
infrequent and often we had to dig to a considerable 
depth in the shallow, dry bed of the streams for water, 
finding barely enough to partially slack the thirst of 
our cattle. And Oh, the suffering from the scorching, 
burning alkali dust. It filled the air, penetrated 
through everything, covered our bodies, found its 
dusty way into our food boxes, bedding, and clothing. 
All the water we drank was tainted with its soapy 
flavor. It choked up the pores of our skin, eating its 
way into the nostrils and lips. Our faces were contin- 
ually cracked and sore from its action. Dreary and 
monotonous as this country seems now as you travel 
over it in a comfortable Pullman, it was indescribably 
more so in the days of the slow-moving ox team. It 
was over six hundred miles from Salt Lake to the base 
of the Sierras, but the roundabout way that sometimes 
we had to travel in order to find food and water for 
our stock mjade the distance much longer. The best 
time w^e could possibly make would not average over 
a hundred miles a week. At that period for miles over 
these inhospitable plains there was not a habitation 
visible. Now on the line of the railways thriving 
toAvns and villages abound and the iron horse bellows 
forth his deep-throated song almost hourly. The 
thousands speeding over this unfriendly soil little real- 
ize the discomforts impeding our slow journey. 

We occasionally met some strange characters 
while traveling on the plains and through the moun- 
tains of Utah and Nevada, — men who had drifted over 
these tract less wilds, isolating themselves from the 
companionship of their kind, and becoming partial 
savages. The monotony of our journey was sometimes 



108 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

dispelled by one of these men dropping into our camp, 
and we became much interested in the strange stories 
of their wonderful adventures. It appeared that every 
hour in their roving lives had its dangers and hair- 
breadth escapes. Some Avere trappers and scouts, 
others stockmen and herdsmen. Many apparently had 
no other desire than to live close to nature and remote 
from civilization. We encouraged them to tell of the 
remarkable episodes of their venturesome lives, and 
it seemed to give them as much pleasure to relate as 
it did us to sit alternately thrilling or trembling at 
the wonderful stories. None of the many tales we had 
read of Western adventure could so have moved us, 
not even the famous Fennimore Cooper, over whose 
stories we had burned the midnight oil. Two of these 
frontiersmen met us on the road one day. They had 
been alone in the wilderness for weeks, hunting and 
prospecting. They turned back and went on with us 
for the balance of the day. We were informed that 
one of these men was the greatest Indian exterminator 
on the frontier. His whole family had been massacred 
by the Indians and his greatest pleasure was in shoot- 
ing Indians whenever opportunity offered. 

We looked forward to Saturday night in camp as 
a welcome rest and relaxation. Six days' travel was 
enough for man and beast. We needed the quiet and 
repose of Sunday. It was not always a complete rest 
for me, for there was the usual laundering and baking. 
Still it was a change from the continual moving on. 
It also gave us the opportunity to indulge in two 
extra hours of sleep in the morning w^hich proved a 
blessing to me. Early rising was my "bete noir." The 
extra time gave me a chance to cook a better Sunday 
morning breakfast. A yearning filled our souls, or 
rather our stomachs, for a broiled chicken, fried 
oysters, or an omelette. Hot rolls we had always for 
breakfast, but Sunday morning's flap-jacks were our 



THE WELCOME SUNDAY MORNING FLAP-JACKS 109 

greatest treat. These were made from the sour milk 1 
had carefully saved a day or two. Our milk supply 
was gradually failing as our little cow could no longer 
give us a sufficient quantity on the dry and scanty 
grazing. In place of butter the ever-ready bacon gravy 
thickened with flour and milk was used. We had 
both become adept in tossing the flap-jacks up into the 
air, turning them over and back into the frying pan, 
and these had to satisfy us in lieu of all the good 
things that we had in our imagination. We were 
happy if we had decent water to niiake our coffee pal- 
atable. Travelers on these desert wastes found scant 
provision for sensitive stomachs. Fortunately oud 
out-door life and exercise found us with appetites 
whetted for bacon and beans. 

By this time my condition became apparent to 
the most casual observer. Frequently the squavt'^ 
approached me and patting me on the bosom, would 
say, "By and by papoose." The urgent need of some new 
maternity gowns appealed to me every day. But where 
was I to procure tliem, hundreds of miles from any 
dry goods emporium? Necessity, that stern mother 
of invention, came to ray aid. Before starting on our 
journey, I had made, to protect it from the dust of 
travel, a stout covering of blue plaid gingham for my 
feather bed. This outer covering I had removed when 
I sold the bed in Salt Lake. Ripping open the plain 
straight seams, I cut and fashioned without guide or 
pattern a comfortable and serviceable, if not a stylish, 
garment, making it by hand at odd moments in camp 
or as I rode along on my way. From a big flowered 
dressing gown that my husband had discarded as 
being too effeminate to be worn on the plains, 
changing its lines from its too masculine contour, I 
made another suitable and befitting dress, although the 
coloring was almost too bright and gay for that style 
of garment. 



110 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

Time hung heavily on our hands as we plodded 
alons over the barren stretches of Utah. We became 
almost as lifeless as the country over which we were 
traveling. Even by day there was an all-pervading 
silence. No chirp of bird, no hum of insect. Far 
ahead of us a white line marked our road. It seemed 
to ever beckon us on over more arid stretches of des- 
ert, sand and sage brush. This part of our journey was 
one perpetual search for water, and when we were 
fortunate enough to find it we did nothing but con- 
demn and criticize it all night, grumbling at its qual- 
ity and lack of quantity. Yet we left it in the morning 
with fear that we might not again find any so good. 
The nights were unbearable with the unutterable still- 
ness. The unbroken silence seemed to overpower us 
with its subdued indifference. It struck a chill to our 
hearts, and Ave sought our lowly beds with dread, and 
timidly slept under the distant and unfamiliar stars. 

Just before reaching Fish springs, we passed 
one of the salt wells that were common to this part 
of the country. Its depth was unknown, but the water 
contained therein was so strongly impregnated with 
salt that it was like a strong brine. This well was 
six or eight feet in diameter, and all around it the 
vegetation was covered with a white incrustation. 
The suction of this strange well was so great that it 
would draw in anything used in attempting to explore 
its depths. A rude fence had been thrown around 
it to guard the unwary traveler. 

Fish springs was a large pool of water lying at 
the base of a low mountain. For three or four 
miles it sent out a large and copious stream, but the 
thirsty sands soon absorbed it. The water, while 
brackish, was said to abound in fish. We threw in 
our line and tried to coax a bite fromj the finny deni- 
zens, but the only bite we got was from the swarming 
mosquitoes, immense in size and venomous as starved 



WILLOW SPRINGS 111 

creatures. They stnng our cattle to tlie verge of mad- 
ness, and at early dawn we were glad to get beyond 
their onslaughts. A rude stage station was estab- 
lished at Fish springs, and the solitary keeper 
greeted us warmly. The sight of travelers to pass the 
night brought some variety into his isolated life, which 
had no companionship save the horses and his dogs and 
cats. We filled his heart with gratitude by leaving with 
him some of our tattered and torn literature. From 
this man we learned that the nearest water to be 
found was over thirty miles away, and he urged us 
if possible to make the drive in one day. 

Next morning, long before the sun was up, we 
were traveling our way through a dusty, sandy pass. 
The sky was overcast with heavy leaden clouds. The 
heat was intense. Peal after peal of thunder shook 
the air, but only a slight shower overtook us. How- 
ever we hailed it witli delight, for while there w^as 
more thunder than shower, we were gratified for any 
moisture. This unusual rain served to cool the air, 
and we hurried along with renewed zeal, hoping to 
reach by nightfall, the point already described to ua 
as Pleasant valley. Darkness overtook us long before 
we reached its precious locality. We knew, however, 
that it could not be far off by the way our thirsty cat- 
tle snuffed the air, and by their increased gait, which 
required no urging. A little later we drove into the 
valley, where the pure and sparkling water of Willow 
springs greeted us with its refreshing coolness. How 
we reveled in its pure, sweet depths. Our thirsty cat- 
tle drank again and again, stopped to graze a while, 
then returned to dip their brown muzzles into its 
leaping waters. The vegetation around Willow 
springs was the most luxurious we had seen since we 
left Salt Lake, and as we had overdriven our stock, 
we stayed there for two or three days. 

We were told by the keeper of this station that 



112 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

we were now over the Utah desert, that is the northeast 
corner of it, though it extended some two or three 
hundred miles south of us. For a time after leaving 
Pleasant valley, our road lay over the mountains of 
Utah, which brought us some relief from the everlast- 
ing sage brush and sand of the desert. These mountains 
were fairly wooded. A few cedars raised their gnarled 
and stunted bodies from the ground to a height of ten 
or fifteen feet. There were also pine of equally 
scrubby character. But in the canyons grew large 
balsam firs. My little son engaged himself in gather- 
ing large quantities of the gum that exuded from these 
trees. The flavoring and chewing qualities very much 
resembled that of the spruce gum of the East. 

Our route through these Utah mountains led us 
over innumerable ranges. We seldom lacked for 
water there, but the v>'ay was devious and wild. One 
afternoon, leaving the higher ranges behind us, we 
struck a level plain, and saw ahead of us a drove of 
five or six hundred cattle which their drivers were 
urging over a low, marshy piece of ground over which 
had been built a rough pole bridge. Such a large 
number crossing at one time had torn the frail struct- 
ure to pieces. As the ground was too miry and 
uncertain for us to attempt the crossing, we were com- 
pelled to wait over a day, until James with the help 
of the herdsman repaired the bridge, over which our 
timid oxen reluctantly trod. Our horse for a time 
utterly refused to trust his precious bones on the 
uncertain structure. 

When we arrived at Ruby valley, we were told 
that we were in Nevada Territory. I looked in vain 
for the precious stones that I supposed had given 
nainie to the little station. On reaching Diamond 
springs, I found them also lacking in the sparkling 
gems whose name they bore. 

Finally we arrived at the banks of the Humboldt 



THE HUMBOLDT RIVER 113 

river. I say bauks, for most of the way along its 
course was little else but banks. I had heard tales 
of the Humboldt since I was a child. I had studied 
its devious wanderings through sandy deserts in my 
geography at school. Mythical stories had been 
repeated by different people we met on our journey, 
and yet I was wholly unprepared for the sight of that 
river which appeared such an insignificant stream. 
In many places there was scarcely enough water to 
dignify it by the name of a stream, although it was 
said to be three hundred miles long. In the fullest 
part that I saw, it was never larger than an ordinary 
brooklet. Its narrow bottom at intervals produced a 
coarse grass, but so strongly impregnated with 
alkali, that no man who had any regard for the life of 
his stock would allow them to eat it, if there was any 
alternative. In some places they had to eat or die 
and many of them did eat and die, as the numerous 
whitened bones that covered its banks and borders 
testified. James turned his stock away from it if pos- 
sible, preferring to let tliem browse on the buUberry 
or the buffalo bush, which grew here and there among 
the willows. Or if it was imperative that they should 
feed on this coarse grass in lieu of something better, 
he would take his sickle and cut the grass for them, 
as by so doing the stock would not get at the roots, 
which contained much more of the alkali. Along its 
ugly, sandy borders no tree worthy of the name was 
seen. But there were innumerable droves of gad- 
flies, nit)squitoes, and gnats, countless and blood- 
thirsty. There was no comfort to be found either 
night or day along its borders. During the day the 
heat w^as intense, and the thick dust permeated the 
atmosphere. We thought we had driven over many 
barren lands, but our pathway along the Humboldt 
discounted anything with which we had come in 
contact. 



114 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

Oiar pilgrimage through these scorching deserts 
of Nevada was one h>ng to be remembered. Each 
morning as the blazing sun arose above the horizon, 
our tired and sunburned eyes looked in vain for some 
green spot in all that burning sand, and as we slowly 
and wearily plodded along its glowing surface, over- 
come with heat and consumed with thirst, we 
suffered almost beyond endurance. Unless one has 
traveled by our slow method, they can have only the 
slightest conception of these blistering, waterless 
wastes. Many emigrants whose stock was in no con- 
dition to stand this long continued travel without 
water, found their stock dying and leaving them with 
no means of transportation. Often they were com- 
pelled to abandon their wagons, pack a few provi- 
sions on a single ox or mule, and toil on afoot. The 
bones of hundreds of cattle lay bleaching in the sun. 
Graves witiiout number were dug by the wayside. 
It was pitiful and heart rending to see them in such 
numbers. Scarcely a day passed that we did not 
observe the lowly burial place of some poor sufferer, 
who had at last succumbed to the hardships of this 
long journey. These rude graves were sometimes 
covered with a pile of stones. Others bore a head- 
board on which was rudely cut the name of him who 
lay beneath. For them no weeping willow sighed a 
sad requiem nor enfolded their lowly mounds with its 
tender, swaying branches. No marble shaft praised 
their deeds or told their fame. No flowers rare and 
sweet rested on the unconsecrated soil. But the 
horned toad and lizard glided beneath the growth of 
scanty weeds. Those lying here were lonely now, 
deserted by the loved ones whose bleeding hearts had 
been forced to leave them at restbeneath the bitter soil. 

Fortunately at this late day the horrors of this 
region have been overcome. In numerous instances 
wells have been dug and water led into the arid 



GRAVES ON THE DESERT 115 

desert. Railroads have been built, and in this age 
of fierce and furious competition men and money have 
overcome many difficulties. And now a trip West- 
ward to the Pacific Coast in a comfortable car is 
sought for by all, and considered a delightful and 
entertaining journey of a few days. Since our long 
hazardous journey of eighteen hundred and sixty, I 
have traveled back and forth a number of times over 
much of the route we slowly toiled over so long ago. 
It has been a constant source of wonder to me how 
we were able to endure it. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

MEETING NEW FRIENDS. — THE PRANKS OF A COOK. — 
LEAVING THE HUMBOLDT FOR CARSON VALLEY. — 
CLIMBING THE SIERRAS. 

We had been in the Humboldt region only a few 
days, when one night we drove into a camp of emi- 
grants who had preceded us all the_ way from Salt 
Lake. Their teams, which consisted of mules and 
horses, kept a day or two ahead of us. But owing 
to the sickness of a valuable horse, they had been 
delayed on the road. The company consisted of a 
white-haired, and rugged old patriarch from the State 
of Michigan, with his aged wife and two daughters, 
girls near my own age. A son and a nephew, together 
with three hired men who had charge of the fine horses 
the old gentleman was driving through to California, 
completed the company. 

Their traveling outfit consisted of a substantial 
carriage fitted up with every comfort and convenience 
for the tedious journey, and drawn by four large 
mules, two huge prairie schooners carrying their 
camp equipage and tents, and another wagon convey- 
ing grain and provisions for the family and horses, 
The camp wagon held every comfort that could be 
devised for a family tenting on the plains. An 
immense cook stove was loaded and unloaded every 
day, for it required a .great amount of cooking to feed 
so many. A dining table of rough boards, strong 
hickory bottomed chairs, and any number of minor 

116 



MEETING NEW FRIENDS HJ 

comforts that were unknown to us with only our 
single team to carry all our possessions. 

The old gentleman whose name was Brookfield, 
was a grand-looking specimen of a Western farmer. 
He was stout, rather short, with snow-white hair and 
beard, and a ruddy countenance beam<ing with genial 
goodsuature, and still vigorous in spite of advancing 
years. His wife was just the opposite, painfully angu- 
lar, and inclined to be somewhat shrewish, a perfect 
paragon of neatness, and just as much a stickler for 
order and cleanliness on the plains as she doubtless 
was in her well-ordered home in Michigan. The 
daughters were comely girls of eighteen and twenty 
with long, beautiful, naturally curling hair that hung 
In ringlets to their waists, and which curled so tightly 
that no amount of pulling could straighten it. These 
curls were a source of great curiosity to the Indians. 
Their own hair hung so straight they could mot under- 
stand the difference, and watched the .girls most 
intently. Sometimes an Indian, more curious than 
the others, would venture to examine the curls. Draw- 
ing one out to its extreme length and releasing it, he 
would look so surprised to see it quickly renew its 
original curl. The girls became uneasy at the sensa- 
tion their hair produced and wore their bonnets 
whenever the Indians invaded the camp. 

The son of Mr. Brookfield was a capable and 
attractive young man much like the father. The 
nephew was the cook, and also the wag of the party, 
witty and quick at repartee, and a great practical 
joker. His name was Bert Brookfield. He called the 
old lady Aunt Debby and he truly was a thorn in 
Aunt Debby's side. For morning, noon and night 
he was ever racking his brains for some joke to play 
upon his nervous old aunt. To me it was an amusing 
sight to watch Bert, as he gaily donned his cook's cap 
and apron preparatory to cooking what he called "an 



118 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

elaborate coarse dinner." Aunt Debby-. hovered 
around to see that he washed his hands before mixing 
the bread. He now and then pretended to wipe his 
floured hands on the seat of his pants or his nose 
on the dish towel, i or carelessly caught up the corner 
of a horse blanket to wipe the dust from the frying 
pan, miuch to the disgust of his fastidious aunt, who 
continually scolded and fretted until the meal was 
served. 

The meeting with this congenial company was a 
source of great pleasure to us, for after leaving Salt 
Ijake I had not even seen a white woman. James and 
I had gradually grown silent and taciturn, and had 
unwittingly partaken of the gloom and somberness of 
the dreary landscape. We no longer gaily sang or 
joked as we kept step beside our sIoav cattle,> we were 
tired and jaded to absolute silence and to passive 
endurance by the monotony of the desert. This lively 
company of young people near our own ages brought 
new life and interest to us two lonely travelers. They 
were all musical. The girls had well-trained voices 
and sang sweetly, while the young men played on 
different instruments that they had brought with 
them. For the few weeks that we traveled together, 
the time passed pleasantly and harmoniously. Our 
camp at night was a season of mirth and good-fellow- 
ship. And no matter how long and tiresome was the 
day's drive, or how many vicissitudes we encountered, 
we each managed at nightfall to furnish our quota of 
amusement. 

One morning at breakfast we^ heard Aunt Debby 
berating Bert because the coffee was not up to the 
usual standard. He insisted that he had prepared the 
coffee as usual, only the alkali water gave it a disa- 
greeable flavor. I had finished up my camp work 
and wa.s spending a few moments in visiting them in 
their camp. Aunt Debby was looking after Bert, 



THE PRANKS OF A COOK 119 

keeping up her usual careful scrutiny over his pots 
and pans to see they were properly cleansed. I 
observed Bert taking up the coffee pot, and from its 
cavernous depths draw out a long and loathsome 
worm which he held up to Aunt Debby's view. With 
a cry of horror she made a dash for his curly head. 
He nimbly eluded her clutches, but did not escape 
her tongue, lashing. He informed me afterwards that 
he had dug two or three feet into the banks of ths 
stream for that worm with which to electrify his 
squeamish aunt and had put it into the pot after 
the breakfast was over. 

Another morning Bert arose from. his slumbers, 
making a great hue and cry over the loss of one of his 
moccasins, and went limping around the camp with 
one bare and unshod foot. As I watched him beat- 
ing up his huge pan of batter for the hot cakes that 
he cooked every morning, he turned and gave me a 
sly wink denoting mischief on his part. Our drive 
for the day was to be one of unusual length. Every 
one was hurr-ying his or her work, in order to get 
an early start before the sun grew so intolerably hot. 
Aunt Debby was busily engaged in helping Bert stow 
away his cooking utensils. Her tongue in the mean- 
while was running over with his many derelictions, 
while he drolly parried her sharp thrusts at his lack 
of order and neatness. Picking up his half-emptied 
batter bowl, he looked into it a moment with apparent 
surprise and consternation. Then drawing forth the 
huge moccasin that he claimed had either been lost or 
stolen, held it up before the horrified eyes of Aunt 
Debby, all dripping with the remnants of the batter. 
These and similar harmless jokes he was constantly 
playing on the irascible old lady. 

The few weeks spent with this company were 
the most enjoyable part of our journey. While their 
males and horses made faster timte than our oxen, 



120 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

yet at the end of the day, by driving a little later we 
managed to camp together. Owing to the lameness of 
their fine bay stallion, they, too, made shorter drives. 
Rut after the animal had almost entirely recovered, 
]\Ir. Brookfield was anxious to make up his lost time 
and get his fine stock into California as soon as pos- 
sible. He decided to still follow the Humboldt to its 
sink, and from there to take the road to California, 
where his final destination was to be Marysville. We 
had learned that the route by way of Carson valley, 
led us through more fertile lands witli better forage 
for our cattle, a very important matter to us, though 
it was a longer and. more indirect route. Very 
reluctantly we parted comipany with these good 
people, promising each other at some future day we 
should meet in California. But alas for promises, we 
never saw or heard of them again, although we wrote 
to them and made enquiries concerning them from 
people of Marysville. Whether they changed their 
minds, like ourselves, and never went to their intended 
destination, we knew not. To this day I have 
never forgotten their pleasant companionship on the 
desolate plains of Nevada. 

As we turned our faces in the direction of 
Carson river a feeling of thankfulness took pos- 
session of our hearts. We were leaving the alkali soil 
of the Humboldt desert behind us, and though the 
Carson river was absorbed by the same desert, yet a 
glance at even its worst features was enough to con- 
vince us that it watered a far more hopeful region. 
Large cottonwoods dotted the banks, here and there 
were willow^, and the wild rose in full bloom occa- 
sionally cropped out on its sandy banks. Still the 
prevalence of drought was everywhere visible, and 
long before we reached Carson City we traveled over 
miles of land doomled to sterility. As we neared the 
town there appeared to- be a great rush of miners and 
prospectors headed for some new mines opened np in 



LEAVING THE HUMBOLDT FOR CARSON VALLEY 121 

that vicinity. Some of these men were so enthus- 
iastic over the prospect that they urged us to go no 
further, but to locate in the new mines. Our faces, 
however, were set for California and we would not be 
persuaded. This embryo town was so small and 
scattered that we hardly knew when we entered it. 
Yet it aspired to be the emporium of the new gold 
region. 

The features of the country had notably changed. 
From the dry and thirsty sagebrush land we gradu- 
ally drove into soft meadows, with numberless 
rivulets flowing down from the Sierras. Owing to the 
shallowness of their beds they were easily controlled, 
and had been made to irrigate a large portion of the 
land. Small farms and gardens occasionally came in 
view, and for our stock we found the sweetest and 
most nutritious grass in abundance. The village of 
Genoa was a most picturesque little spot. It stood on 
a bench between the mountains and the valley, with 
rivulets flowing through and around it to give fer- 
tility to its soil and fructify its gardens and green 
fields. I was charmed with its quiet beauty and 
seclusion, the brightness of its innumerable streams, 
and the grandeur of the neighboring mountains whose 
emerald verdure impressed my mind iwith a vividness 
which only those who have passed long months on a 
shadeless desert can fully realize. From Carson to 
the tpretty little village of Genoa was a drive of nearly 
twenty miles. After a night spent in those charming 
surroundings we began the ascent of the Sierra Ne- 
vadas, the last range of mountains we would have to 
clinib before we viewed the land we had traveled so 
long and far to see. 

There were still two weeks of mountain travel 
ahead of us, and we proceeded slowly owing in a 
great measure to my condition. The continual jolt- 
ing of the wagon over the uneven roadway was 



122 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

exceedingly trying to me, so much so in fact that I 
finally gave up ridings altogether, taking my slow way 
up the mountain on foot. Day after day for the next 
two weeks I trudged slowly and painfully through 
the red dust of the Sierras, from Genoa, at the eastern 
base, to the foothills of California. I had always 
boasted of my pedestrian powers, but when I surveyed 
that road winding up and still up, my pride in being 
a great walker vanished, and like the old bishop who 
was so fond of worldly comfort, I said, "All, all is 
vanity except a carriage." I could no longer mount 
my horse, and only by slow degrees made my way on 
foot, stopping frequently to rest the weary muscles. 
Then upward again, every nerve as tense as steel and 
every faculty alert, I climbed with painful toil. 

After leaving Genoa, we- wound around the 
curved border of a narrow roadway excayated on the 
mountain side, and only a little wider than the 
wagon's tracks. So frequent and sharp were these 
curves that the forward yoke of oxen would be out of 
sight as 1 followed the wagon. Looking down the 
precipice on which we were traveling T shuddered at 
the thought of what might happen if our sturdy cattle 
made a misstep on the narrow roadway that seemed 
to hang' on the mountain side. My little son had been 
suffering for several days with a sprained ankle and 
was compelled to ride, so on his account I was 
extremely anxious as I watched the wagon lurch 
around the sharp and narrow curves. 

The scenery along these winding roads was mag- 
nificent. The tall pines grew straight as arrows and 
clinging to their sturdy trunks were beautiful varie- 
gated yellow and green lichens. The smaller trees of 
these immense forests were here in richest profusion. 
Hemlocks, balf^am, pines, and fir trees filled up the 
intervening spaces. The whole 'forest seemed gay 
with life and motion. Squirrels frolicked and 



CLIMBING THE SIERRAS 123 

scampered from tree to tree. The agile and graceful 
chipmunk darted hither and thither in the low hazel 
bushes, chattering noisily as he ran, as if scolding us 
for disturbing him on his own domain, his bright leyes 
twinkling as they peered up at us from some leafy 
bough. The blue jay, with his towering crest and 
noisy discordant call, flew swiftly through the dark 
foliage of the evergreen trees. Here and there a dusty 
lupine lifted* up its blue-tipped stem, all strangely 
beautiful when compared with the alkaline deserts 
over which we had so recently toiled. 

This first day's climb into the Sierras was a novel 
experience to me. These mountains were so different 
in aspect from the bare bald Rockies. Ever and anon 
a little spring by the roadside gave the thirsty climb- 
ers a chance to quench their thirst. As I plodded 
slowly up the mountain side, I had ample time to 
observe all the beauties of its ever changing scenery. 
Winding around some steep cliff new surprises would 
burst upon my vision, here a transient view of still 
more towering summits icovered with snow, there a 
glimpse of a stream flowing between or at the base of 
some deep and dark ravine. These beautiful moun- 
tains which /rose like castelated towers astonished me 
with the immensity of their huge pines attaining 
heights that seemed wonderful. The enormous cones 
were often a foot long and the rich, green foliage, like 
long needles, swayed with the passing breeze. Lying 
prone by the wayside, and crossing each other at every 
imaginable angle were hundreds of these monarchs of 
the forest laid low by the woodman's axe. It seemed 
a sacrilege to gaze upon themi in their prostrate 
grandeur. On every side were huge stumps at whose 
bases lay the fallen trunks of the once noble trees. 
Civilization made roadways a necessity, and these 
grand old trees were the victims of the march of 
improvement. The Rocky mountains failed to com- 



124 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

pare with the Sierra range in the variety and grandeur 
of this great forest growth. 

Bewitched by the beauty of the surroundings I 
hardly realized that I had grown weary and footsore, 
until the setting sun began to cast its shadows over 
the pine-hung slopes of these mountain gorges. Look- 
ing down this slope far below us lay the hamlet of 
Genoa that we had left so early in the morning, still 
in sight although we had climbed steadily above it 
all that long September day. Under a huge pine tree 
we placed our tent, cooked our humble supper, and 
prepared to sleep our first night in the vastness of 
the great Sierras, breathing that balmy air balsam- 
tinctured from the fragrant pines. Through the 
open door of. our little tent, we watched the mjoon as 
it shone down upon us through the interlacing 
boughs. I was too weary to- sleep, and traced the 
movements of the bright and radiant sphere until it 
passed beyond my vision. At last I mustihave fallen 
asleep, for 1 was awakened long before dawn by the 
most unearthly shrieks ringing through . the forest 
and coming back again in plaintive echoes from the 
hills beyond. These fearful wails were caused by a 
death in a camp of Indians who were located in our 
near vicinity, but of whose presence we had been 
totally ignorant. 



CHAPTER XV. 

an indian funeral. — the pack train. — welcomed 
by lumbermen. — descending into california. 
first glimpses op mining. — we sell out. — the 
journey's end. 

We IMAGINED when we had progressed so near 
our journey's end that we had bid a final adieu to 
"Lo, the poor Indian." But we were yet to see a 
more degraded specimen of the red man than had 
been our privilege hitherto. Certainly the Indians 
we met in the Sierra mountains were more degraded 
and more filthy than any tribe we had met- in our 
wanderings. Tliese Indians migrated from the val- 
leys to the mountains in the fall to harvest the pine 
nuts growing so plentifully in these forests, and on 
which depended their food for the winter months. 
We came upon them frequently everywhere through 
these mountains. The lazy braves mounted, leading 
the way unhampered and free, were followed by 
troops of obedient and slavish squaws on foot, laden 
with huge baskets in which the harvest of nuts was 
loaded. '. 

These Indians were inferior in size and stature. 
The largest brave rarely exceeded in height a little 
over five feet. They were extremely homely and 
repulsive, with wide mouths and flat ugly noses. 
Their hair, black as jet, cut straight over their low 
foreheads, hung at the back and sides in long, strag- 
gling strands. The. squaws wore their hair thickly 
plastered with pitch, and a broad band of pitch was 

1% 



126 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

smeared across noses and cheeks. They were horribly 
filthy and covered with vermin, and their dirty off- 
spring were strapped as usual to a board, and carried 
on their backs. While this band of Indians was busy 
harvesting their annual crop of pine nuts, one of the 
young squaws was taken suddenly ill and died. She 
was the wife of the chief and great was the com- 
motion among them at her untimely taking off. It 
was the custom among these Indians, when a death 
occurred in their tribe, for the superannuated squaws 
to become professional mourners. They would im- 
mediately proceed to stain their already tarred heads 
and faces with a more ample supply of pitch, and then 
burst forth into the most dismal wails indeed. The 
forest and mountains reverberated with their 
unearthly shrieks for the dead. This weeping and wail- 
ing was continued through the long hours of the first 
night and all the following day until near sunset. 
It was our privilege to witness the strangq 
funeral ceremonies 'over the body of this squaw. It 
was carefully rolled in her soiled red blanket, then a 
huge pile of dried pine branches was erected, on which 
was placed her dead body. Her nearest relatives 
grouped themselves about the funeral pyre, while the 
others stood around the outside of the circle. For an 
interval of ten moments or more perfect silence 
reigned. The loud wailing of the aged squaws had 
ceased and just as the setting sun was about to sink 
below the horizon, one of these ancient mourners, an 
old squaw whose head was literally covered with tar, 
raised her arms heavenward and gazed long and 
steadily at the sun as it slowly sank from sight. At 
intervals < she muttered some low incantation, her 
bronze countenance lit up with a strange intensity. 
For a short space of time she stood in this position. 
Then, suddenly with a blood-curdling shriek, she 
sprang forward and seizing a brand from the camp 



THE PACK TRAIN 127 

fire lighted the funeral heap. The flames shot high 
in the^ darkened forest. The aged squaws, whose bent 
bodies rocked to and fro in rythmic time, renewed 
their plaintive wailing and all the other Indians of 
both sexes joined in a pathetic chorus, and chanted a 
funeral dirge sounding to our listening ears like, 
"Emaylaya, emaylaja." All swiftly turned their 
faces tow^ard the setting sun, then back again upon 
the funeral pyre. It was a strange weird sight to 
us, that circle of bronzed Indians around the burning 
corpse. While the song or chant was being sung each 
one sw^ayed mechanically to the measure of the dirge, 
but their stolid countenances hid any expression of 
grief or woe. 

For several days before reaching the sunnmit of 
the Sierras I toiled slowly up and over the narrow 
winding trails, stopping frequently to rest and catch 
my breath, on and on and always higher and higher, 
frequently mieeting the mule pack trains carrying 
freight and merchandise from California over to the 
deserts of Nevada. These mules were burdened with 
every variety of merchandise, furniture, flour and 
freight of all kinds, securely fastened on to huge pack 
saddles. Around their necks was strung a string of 
bells which warned teamsters and pedestrians of their 
approach. These mules never gave the right of way 
to anyone. In many places the road was so narrow 
and the mountain so steep above and below us, that 
I was obliged to squeeze myself as closely to the cliff 
as possible, hunting if I had time, some place that had 
been excavated a little deeper in the side of the cliff 
than usual, and standing there perfectly still until 
they passed me by. Their burdened sides pressed 
close against me as they crowded along. It was 
rather trying to the nerves to have from sixty to a 
hundred pack-mules rushing past one with scarcely 
room for one's body. 



128 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

As we continued to ascend, I found that I could 
no longer keep up with the team and the slow-moving 
oxen would out-walk me. In the early part of our 
journey, I could without effort out-walk them, but not 
so now. My husband frequently halted the team to 
wait for me. Oh how glad was I to catch a sight of 
the waiting wagon in which I could lie down for a 
brief respite. At last we reached the summit in the 
early days of October and camped a day and rested 
in Strawberry valley. The atmosphere at this alti- 
tude began to grow shivery at nightfall. A keen, 
frosty air permeated everywhere. Our camp was in 
the neighborhood of a lumber, or rather a shake set- 
tlement. Four ori five young and vigorous men from 
the New England states had located a timber claim 
in the heart of these immense pine forests, and were 
busily employed in getting out lumber and making 
the shakes that were in demand for building pur- 
poses all down through the Sacramento valley. With 
true California hospitality they visited our camlp, and 
as the nights were cold insisted on our sharing the 
comforts of their cabin for the night. James turned 
to me to see what I thought of the proposition. I 
could easily see that he wanted to accept the invitation 
and have a talk and smoke with these hospitable 
mountaineers. I, too, longed to be under a roof 
and sit by a warm fireside. Needless to say we 
accepted. Before we reached their cabin I heard 
strains of music from a favorite opera which I was 
surprised to hear in this mountain wilderness. When 
the cabin door was opened we found a young man 
who played the violin with the skill of a virtuoso. 

The bright light from within the cabin showed ua 
a most cheerful interior. There was an immense 
room with a roughly boarded floor. The spaces 
between the logs of which the cabin was built were 
unchinked and let in volumes of fresh mountain ozone 



WELCOMED BY LUMBERMEN 129 

In a rough stone fire-place huge logs were burning. 
A square home-made pine table occupied the center 
of the room. It held a few books, interspersed with 
pipes and tobacco. At one side of this room was a 
rough couch covered with the skins of wild animals 
and very comfortable. There was a rocking-chair that 
one of the men had made, the seat and back formed of 
skins like the couch. This was immediately whirled 
in front of the fire for my benefit, and it was a great 
luxury to be seated once more in a real rocking-chair, 
as for the last six months I had either sat upon 
the ground, or on an humble soap box with neither 
arms nor back for support. Indeed the smallest 
suggestion of home or home comfort was very grate- 
ful. The rough walls of the cabin were decorated 
with the various trophies of the forest, antlers, skins 
of wild animals, Indian bows and arrows, and guns 
of various kinds were stacked in the corners or hung 
on. the rough walls. The huge fire place took nearly 
one side of this room. Around the other sides were 
bunks built into the walls which served for beds. The 
mattresses, made from flour sacks and filled with 
hay, were fairly comfortable when covered with 
their grey and blue blankets. They whole interior 
presented an inviting and homelike look to us belated 
emigrants, and for a mountain cabin occupied solely by 
men it was cleaner and more neatly kept than would 
be expected. 

Our little son greatly amused these men with his 
childish prattle, and continually questioned them 
about the various trophies decorating the walls of the 
cabin, demanding the history of each one and the 
manner of acquisition. His infantile opinions, given 
without the least reserve and with a seriousness 
beyond his years, caused many a covert smile and 
frequently a hearty laugh from them. Such a long 
time had elapsed since they had seen or conversed 



130 BY OX TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

with a child that they pronounced it a great treat, 
and he was handed around from one to another until 
the Sandman caused his weary eyelids to hang most 
heavily, and he called loudly for bed. One of the 
larger bunks was assigned to us for the night. Then 
the m)en lit their pipes and stole forth into the night, 
giving me ample time to undress and get to bed. At 
early^dawn they made themselves just as scarce 
until my mlorning toilet was completed. A knock at 
the door was answered by my husband and there 
stood one of our hosts with a freshly-scrubbed tin 
wash basin filled with warm water, and a clean flour 
sack for a towel, politely apologizing because he could 
do no better for us. The hearty breakfast was pre- 
pared in the rough shed adjoining the cabin and I 
greatly enjoyed a meal that I had not cooked myself. 
And I found the biscuit made from sour dough and 
soda most excellent. 

While eating our breakfast the men insisted that 
we should tarry with them another day. They 
appeared to take unusually kindly interest in us and 
complimented my husband on the pluck and energy 
he had exhibited in so successfully engineering his 
way across the plains alone and unaided. We were 
both inspired with hope and confidence, by hearing 
that such enterprise and courage as we had shown 
was bound to succeed in a new country. Taking 
James around part of their claim', they showed him 
their primitive workshop and told him of different 
sections of good timber land waiting for some one to 
pre-empt and open up. They told him also much of 
their own prospects and the already successful 
business they had acquired. Finally they wound up 
thei conference of the forenoon with an offer to James 
to stay and go into the lumber business with them, 
asking for no money in the transaction. Of course 
we had our good three voke of oxen which were 



DESCENDING INTO CALIFORNIA 131 

very much needed in a logging camp. As a farther 
inducement for us to stay, they offered to build 
another »cabin near their own for us. A family in 
their camp would add so much pleasure and company 
to their isolated lives, particularly as the long winter 
was approaching. 

James felt almost persuaded. Here was a busi- 
ness and a means of living opened to us who were 
strangers in a strange land with little or no capital 
except that (Vested in our traveling outfit. I think 
were it not for my approaching confinement he would 
have consented to remain with them. He finally told 
them that he would abide by my decision. I was 
weary enough from miy long journey to stay and rest, 
and under other circumstances would have given the 
kind and opportune offer a grateful acquiescence. 
But I was young and inexperienced and dreaded 
going through my coming ordeal so far from nurse or 
doctor. I have since learned that pioneer women in 
a new country can do without the services of either 
one and fare just as well. We enjoyed our stay with 
these people and reluctantly bade them farewell, 
promising them if we found no location or business 
suited to our wants, that in the coming spring we 
Avould return to their cabin among the pines of the 
Sierras. 

As we began the descent of the western slope, 
the wayside houses grew more frequent and we met 
numerous vans carrying freight over the mountains 
into Nevada. Occasionally a fruit wagon appeared, 
with pears, apples and other fruit from the fertile 
Sacramento valley. This was the first fruit we had 
seen since we had left Salt Lake. The huckster 
kindly consented to sell me two pears for fifty cents 
and I think the price made them more enjoyable. 

While we were descending what was then called 
the Hangtown grade, we stopped to water our stock 



132 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

at a wayside inn. The proprietor noticing that we 
were emigrants came out to our wagon and said to 
my husband, ''Stranger, have you got any sugar to 
spare in your outfit? We're clean out. The freighter 
who was to bring our groceries from Sacramento 
is way behind time. There's nary a pound of 
that sweet stuff in the house, and the women folks 
are all clamoring for it." Fortunately we were able 
to oblige him with several pounds, and as it was near 
dinner time he insisted on our coming into dinner 
with them. I demurred at makingi my appearance at 
dinner, even in a country hotel, as my blue plaid 
gingham gown was much soiled with the red dust 
of the road, and I had neither time nor opportunity 
to make a fresh toilet. But- all my excuses were over- 
ruled, and we were ushered into the rough dining 
room. I found the other guests were as unkempt 
looking as myself. While enjoying the luxury of a 
meal with fresh meat well cooked, and plenty of 
vegetables with good mountain butter and cream, I 
forgot T was not dressed for dinner. Never. was there 
a meal more thoroughly enjoyed. The potatoes were 
soggy and the saleratus biscuit golden-hued. But Oh I 
such a welcome change from bacon and beans. 

As we continued down the western slope- of the 
Sierras we found besides the towering pine other trees 
with a strange and beautiful foliage; such a won- 
derful variety of oaks and the picturesque madrona 
with its bright and shining leaves. The peculiar bark 
was very curious to Robert, my little son, who dis- 
covered when he cut a branch that the red bark 
peeled off smooth and clean. The handsome man- 
zanita with its brown berries furnished food to birds 
and bears and to the roving Indian as well. On the 
down grades as we more rapidh' approached the foot- 
hills we felt that at last our feet were planted on the 
soil of California, the far-famed land of gold, where 



FIRST GLIMPSES OF MINING 133 

we thought to pick up the precious metal by the way- 
side. 

How we searched the dust and rocks as we 
passed along for traces of the golden ore. We 
observed ditches running here and there filled with 
yellow water which in our ignorance we imagined 
was colored by the particles of gold running through 
them. Along the ravines and near the brooks were 
men prospecting and washing the dirt and gravel in 
a queer arrangement called a rocker, in the hopes of 
finding what they called pay dirt. Many of the water 
courses had been deeply and widely cut for miles, 
bringing the water to miners in their different loca- 
tions. Little cabins serving to shelter the busy miners 
dotted the hills which were honeycombed and tun- 
neled in every direction, in the eagerness to find the 
precious metal. We were greatly interested and 
enthused as we lingered and talked with some 
of the more fortunate miners who had struck a rich 
find of pay dirt in the surface diggings. But the 
beauty of the surrounding country was much dis- 
figured with all manner of ungainly heaps and ridges. 
Prospecting perhaps was necessary but it did not 
tend to beautify the face of nature. Beautiful little 
natural springs abounded, bright and clear, as crys- 
tal; but every rill leading from them was turned to 
liquid mud by some devastating prospector or gold 
seeker. California in yielding up her wealth of hoarded 
gold surrendered much of her charm and beauty. 

Near a branch of the American river we saw our 
first Chinamen. These strange looking men were then 
a source of wonder to us with their queer habits, 
style of dress, and their long braided queues hanging 
down their backs or else tightly wound around their 
shaven heads, that were covered ^sith a most peculiar 
hat looking like inverted wash bowls mad^: of straw. 
In groups of five or six they were digging the dry 



134 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

gravel and washing it with a sort of Hume and wheel 
arrangement that brought the water down into the 
rocker. Several times we stopped to listen to the 
curions intonation of their voices. Once « we made 
enquiries of a group of these strange men about the 
road we should follow, as we had arrived at a point 
where it forked in two ditferent directions. But they 
stupidly looked at us and said, "Noi sabby." 

Getting no information from the Chinamen, fate 
took us in hand and decided our direction. We- took 
the road that appeared to be the most traveled, and 
thought we were on our way to Placerville, expecting 
by nightfall to camp within ats outskirts. The sun 
was getting low and still no town in sight. A pros- 
pector carrying his pick and shovel and a bundle of 
blankets met us in the road. From him we learned 
that we were miles off our road to Placerville, but on 
the direct route to the town of Folsom. It had been 
our intention to drive to Sacramento via Placerville 
as we had been directed and make that city the ter- 
minus of our long pilgrimage. We felt chagrined that 
we were so far off the road. But the prospector, who 
seemed to be well-informed about the country, told us 
that we were even nearer to Sacramento than if we 
had taken the road to Placerville. 

Next day at noon we drew near a thrifty-looking 
farm house, and finding no place for our stock to 
graze, as all the land was fenced in, we drove upito 
the barnyard gate and sought permission of the 
rancher to drive within his enclosure, and asked. him 
to sell us some hay to feed our stock. To this he readily 
consented, allowed us to make a fire in his^ barnyard 
to boil our coffee, and seemed very accommodating. 
All the time he was walking i around our cattle and 
appeared to be very mluch interested in them. They, 
in spite of their long journey, were in ;excellent con- 
dition, looking sleek and well-kept. Jamjes was a 



WE SELL OUT 135 

careful and prudent driver. He was always solicitous 
for the welfare of his stock and kept them curried 
and groomed until their hides shone like satin. 
The rancher looked them over and over again, pleased 
at their gentleness and docility. He examined our 
wagon also, and asked numberless questions in regard 
to our journey, the length of time we had been 
on our way, and to what place were we going. Finally 
he ended his interrogatory conversation with an 
offer to buy our whole outfit for the sum of four hun- 
dred dollars. This offer coming upon us so suddenly 
caused us both to hesitate for a moment before 
replying. Noticing our hesitation, he added, "I will 
give you and your family a week's board in the bar- 
gain, and that will give you time to locate yourselves." 
This almost took our breath away, coming upon us in 
such an unlooked-for manner. We could not in reason 
refuse such a satisfactory offer. It was a much larger 
sum than we had even hoped to get although we 
had been told that horned cattle were very high at 
that time in California. Within less than an hour's 
notice, our trunks and personal belongings were 
removed and our w^agon, oxen, horse, tent and camp 
equipage were turned over to the rancher. Imagine 
my consternation when he insisted on our going at 
once to his house. I had no opportunity or time to 
make a change in my dress, and attired as I was in my 
soiled and tattered gown, dusty and dirty from the 
strain of travel and camp; my husband clad in his 
worn and begrimed red flannel shirt, his rough cor- 
duroys stuffed in his rougher boots; my little son in 
his worn outing garb, we presented anything but a 
prepossessing appearance. I dreaded woefully to face 
the wife who knew nothing of the strangers her hus- 
band was ushering thus unceremoniously into her 
wellnordered household. We met with a more civil 
reception than I expected, although she looked some- 



136 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

what askance at our worn garb. We were at once 
shown into a very plain but clean bed room adjoining 
the kitchen. My trunks were brought in and I 
unpacked some clean, fresh garments and after the 
luxury of a good bath and having removed the red dust 
of the road we gladly donned the garb of civilized 
society, and looked and felt fit to be once more within 
the pale of civilization. 

When the bell rang calling us out to supper I 
was pleased to note the change in the demeanor of 
our hostess, who gazed upon us with ill-concealed 
surprise. Such is the power of good clothes, for the 
unkempt and soiled emigrants had blossomed out into 
really good-looking people. My husband, although 
browned by six mionths' exposure to the sun and wind, 
was wonderfully improved when shaved and dressed 
in a "biled" shirt and collar and well fitting clothes. 
I felt proud of him when I compared him with the 
somewhat slovenly rancher. As for myself I had 
worn my shaker sun bonnet so closely and was always 
so vain of my white hands, never allowing myself to 
go ungloved save when cooking, that I bore no marka 
of the emigrant, when I discarded my emigrant garb. 
My fair-haired little son, Robert, looked exceedingly 
picturesque in his natty suit of blue. I could easily 
perceive that we were making a new and more favor- 
able impression. 

Our bed room for the night was in such near 
proximity to the kitchen that I could overhear every 
word that was spoken there. The next morning I 
was awakened by a conversation between our hostess 
and the hired man who had come in with his pail of 
milk. "Has the boss been buying any emigrant 
cattle lately," he asked. "Yes," she replied, "He 
bought out an emigrant family yesterday, and they 
are to stay a week with us." "Well," replied the man, 



THE JOURNEY'S END 137 

"There are two dead oxen and one cow laying in the 
corral." 

Nothing was said to us at breakfast about anj 
dead animals. But after breakfast was over Jamea 
went out to the corral to see for himself, and there 
lay stretched out dead and cold our beautiful black 
Jill and Buck, our favorite lead oxen, and our gentle 
little cow. Each of them had apparently been well 
and sound the day before. Feeding that last day in 
the open foothills, they had eaten of the poison 
parsnip which grew there so profusely. At the time 
of the sale they had shown no signs of illness,- either 
to us or to the rancher^ James insisted on returning 
some of the money that had been paid to him but the 
man would not take it. He insisted that it was his 
loss under the circumstances of the trade. . 

Our hostess the next morning gave us a large 
airy room up stairs. During the day, the elderly 
lady, mother of the rancher, said to me, "We have a 
piano in the parlor that we brought around the horn 
with us but no one here can play upon it. Perhaps 
you play?" I replied that before we left the States 
I had been considered quite a musician, but had had 
no practice for the last six months. At once I was 
ushered into the unused parlor and the piano unlocked 
and divested of its rubber covering, and I reveled 
once more in the touch of the familiar keys, playing 
over and over my long neglected music. I soon 
had an audience from all the household, includ- 
ing the hired man and the Chinaman. My effort 
seemed to captivate them all, not that it was excellent, 
but because they were hungry for music. After dis- 
covering that I had this accomplishment, nothing was 
too good for us. Each vied with the other to make 
our stay delightful and begged of us to remain until 
the end of the month. But James was anxious to 



138 BY ox TEAM TO CALIFORNIA 

look about for business, and I felt the need of getting 
settled before my fast approaching confinement. 

At the end of the week we left the home of these 
good people, to whom we became very much attached. 
We found in the neighboring town of Folsom, and five 
or six miles from our new-found friends, a little cot- 
tage of two or three rooms • exceedingly small and 
primitive, but roomy enough for our needs, larger than 
we cared to furnish under the circumstances. We had 
not fulh^ decided where we were going to locate per- 
manently, and only provided ourselves with the bare 
necessities that we must have for comfort. 

At last we were settled down for a rest from our 
long and perilous journey. How I enjoyed the quiet 
of this humble little home, the cessation from the con- 
tinual moving on — my morning's peaceful sleep with- 
out having to arise at the first peep of day and get 
ready to travel onward. And here, after an interval 
of two short weeks the stork put in his appearance 
and our babe came to us, the mother of the grand- 
sons for whom I pen these lines. 

My dear husband was worried beyond all meas- 
ure for fear that the long and tiresome journey would 
prove disastrous for me, but I came bravely through 
the trying ordeal. 

I have now finished my narrative of my six- 
month journey overland to California. Many things 
have been omitted owing to forgetfulness, or lack of 
skill in selecting what to many would have been more 
interesting. Some things have been included which, 
perhaps, it would have been wiser to omit. I have 
tried to relate all faithfully as I remember it. While 
striving with my refractory memories, I realised that 
they were sometimes unsatisfactory to myself and 
probably would be to others, and, while I have for- 
gotten much of the less interesting parts of the 



THE JOURNEY'S END 139 

journey, yet, in the main I have kept close to the most 
striking incidents of our long trip. As we congratu- 
lated ourselves that all was well that ended well, we 
could happily say with California's own poet, Joaquin 
Miller, in his "Pioneer" 

"That rest, sweet rest is reckoned best, 
For we were worn as worn with years. 
Two thousand miles of thirst, and tears, 
Two thousand miles of bated breath 
Two thousand miles of dust and death." 



Finis. 



DEC 27 1910 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



Cic:. 27 ts^c 



